Rat
by DragonDi
Summary: The Potters' Secret Keeper, Sirius Black, is presumed dead. Remus Lupin wants revenge for his lover's death-but soon finds that things are not always what he thought they were. RL/SB.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This was written for the lupinbigbang over at LiveJournal, celebrating what would have been Remus' 50th birthday. Thanks to the marvellous remuslives23 for her continued support and friendship, and to the amazing epithalamium002 for the incredible artwork for this story. If you'd like to see artwork that was done for this (five, count 'em, FIVE beautiful watercolours), you'll have to turn to my LiveJournal (dogsunderfoot) or check out the lupinbigbang. (There are some other incredible fics over at that site!)

**Disclaimer: **The characters in this story are the creation of J.'s incredible imagination, and I'd never dream of trying to make money from them.

* * *

Human grief was a terrible, terrible thing.

It was all-consuming, swallowing every other emotion and thought in Remus' body. It left a vast, bare, greyness through which only idle chitchat seemed to pass—

_We thought maybe a memorial service after the next Order meeting?"_

"_Dumbledore will send over a couple of house-elves to help with the dinner..."_

"_Is there anything in particular you want served?"_

"_He was a good man, no doubt about it."_

He ate when food was placed before him, but it tasted of grief: bland, dry, and empty. He followed where he was led, heard the words he was supposed to hear, said the things he was supposed to say—

_"That would be nice."_

"_That will be a great help."_

"_Choose whatever you'd like."_

"_Yes, he was..."_

Life had become a series of courteous—but awkward—conversations, hesitant hugs, and pathetic platitudes. There was nothing else. No sudden urges to run down the street for chips because he'd just been shagged into starvation. No sudden interruptions in making dinner because a pair of lips had found that sensitive spot on the back of his neck. No sudden mad dashes for the bedroom because of the brush of a hand against denim stretched taut across a perfectly rounded arse...

There had been no goodbye kiss, no last chance to run his fingers through thick dark hair, no last look at laughing grey eyes, and no last lingering touch of fingertips...

Voldemort had taken Sirius away from him completely. There had been no body to bury, though an all too familiar leather jacket, bloodied and slashed to tatters, had been dumped at the front door of the flat Remus had shared with Sirius. A broken wand had been stuffed in the pocket.

Remus wished there had been more than inanimate objects left behind; he just couldn't seem to get his brain and his heart to understand that Sirius wasn't coming back. His ears kept listening for Sirius' voice, his body kept expecting to feel Sirius' next to him in their kitchen and in their bed. His heart beat more rapidly every time he spotted someone who vaguely resembled Sirius in any way.

Lily—_One third of the reason he's gone—_came over and perched herself on the couch next to him. "Remus, can I get you a plate?"

_Get me a plate so I can chuck it against the wall and hear it shatter like my heart when I heard..._

"No, Lily, I'm fine. Thank you."

She fidgeted with the lace handkerchief in her hands. She'd cried more tears than he had and he wondered if she were crying because of the guilt that the most passionate, loyal man in the world had died for her sake, or if she were crying because of what that loss had done to Remus. She hadn't been able to look at him for too long before bursting into tears, though she seemed to be doing better today. After all, she'd been staring at him with pity for the past minute and hadn't started crying yet.

He was beginning to find the whole thing tiresome.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"No, I've had enough."

What he really wanted was Firewhiskey. It didn't need to dull the edges, because there weren't any. His grief was flat and blank and endless...

He needed the Firewhiskey to subdue the creature he could feel stalking just below the surface of his humanity.

_Hunt. Hunt them down. Kill them._

But he didn't know _who_ was responsible for the loss of his lover and the wolf's mate. Yes, Voldemort had killed Sirius, there was no doubt of that. But, who had given Sirius to Voldemort? Who would have hated James and Lily and Harry that much that he (or she) would have sold/led/pushed their Secret Keeper to such a fate? Who would have hated Sirius that much that he (or she) would have sentenced him to death in such a manner?

Who hated Remus so much that they'd deprive him of love and security and friendship and laughter?

There was a spy. They knew that.

_And it's someone in this room._

The realisation made him frown at the flowers on the wallpaper—the flowers that Sirius had said looked like monkey faces. His eyes swept over the crowd that had gathered at the Order headquarters to pay their final respects to 'an amazingly noble and brave individual', as someone had called Sirius.

"Remus?" Lily asked, noticing his searching gaze.

"It's someone here," he whispered. "Someone here did this to him."

Lily's eyes widened, alarmed now. "Remus, listen, love..."

"Someone here killed him," Remus said, feeling his body tighten with pre-battle tension.

"Remus, you can't do this! Not now!" she hissed, grabbing his arm with both hands. "We'll talk about it later. James and I have been talking and—"

"I'm going to kill him," Remus heard his voice say. He blinked rapidly several times, because he hadn't meant to say that out loud, hadn't meant to say what the wolf was thinking. But now that it was out, he knew he was right. He was going to kill the one who had killed Sirius.

There was a gasp from Lily. "No, Remus!" Her fingernails dug into his arm. "Please, please, wait to talk to James! He's angry and upset, too, but –"

She went on, but Remus was no longer listening.

Diggle? No. He was too flighty to be anything but honest, open, and good. He wouldn't be able to hide being a traitor. Doge? There was a possibility. He was a quiet, intelligent man...

Legs suddenly appeared in front of his eyes, blocking his view of the room. He looked up to see Frank Longbottom.

"Lupin, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for your loss."

Remus just stared at him. Frank had been uncomfortable with his and Sirius' relationship, outwardly fidgeting when he was partnered with either Remus or Sirius alone, and he had the gall, the audacity, the _balls _to offer his condolences?

Lily slid her hands down to cover the long fingers that had curled themselves into fists involuntarily. "He appreciates that, Frank, really he does. He's just not ready to talk right now."

The man was more than happy to walk away and Lily's grip tightened on Remus' hands. "Remus, you're hurting and sad—"

"Sad?" Remus chuckled bitterly. "Gods, Lily, you have no idea. _Sad._" He repeated the word almost mockingly.

"Sirius wouldn't like to see you like this."

"He's not here to see me, though, is he?" Remus shot back harshly.

Lily gamely went on. "I know you want someone to hurt for what—"

"Oh, no, Lily," Remus corrected her gently. "I want them to _die_ for what they've done."

"Sirius wouldn't want—"

Remus shot to his feet. "Stop throwing that back at me! No one knows what Sirius would want because Sirius wouldn't even want to be _dead_ right now!"

Lily sat wordlessly staring at him, her green eyes full of tears.

And then Remus realised that everyone else in the room was staring at him as well. Fear and satisfaction combined to stifle all conversation and bring their attention pointedly at him. All evening, he'd seen them looking at him with varying degrees of pity and curiosity, probably wondering, "When is Lupin going to snap?" Well, now he had.

"Remus, mate, come on." James—_Another part of the reason Sirius is gone—_ was suddenly beside him, tugging gently on his jacket sleeve. "Let's get some air."

He didn't want to go with James, didn't want James to be understanding about why he'd just yelled at Lily. James should have yelled at him, told him that Lily was just trying to help, and why was Remus being such a prat about this? But, no. James was half-pulling, half-pushing him out through the kitchen and to the back garden, his smile full of sadness and his eyes full of pity, telling him not to worry, everything would be fine. He hadn't known James was capable of such cruel lies.

The back garden was really nothing more than a small concrete slab around which weak strands of grass struggled for life. There was a small round table and an odd assortment of six or seven chairs clustered on the concrete. Remus, the Potters, Peter, and Sirius had sat around the table several times over the past three years, drinking remembrances of those killed in Order missions.

James pushed Remus into a chair and reached into his jacket for a small flask. "Here."

The Firewhiskey burned going down his throat, but Remus was glad for it. At last he was feeling something. James' hands rested firmly on his shoulders, thumbs gently rubbing at the rock-hard muscles that lay beneath the material and scarred skin.

"Can you hang on just a while longer, Moony?" James asked. "You can come home with us and –"

"No. I want to go home."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"It's _home_. And I have to start being by myself sometime."

The fingers stopped moving for the briefest of seconds and then resumed. The sound of the rough skin on cloth almost covered James' sigh. "Moony, you're not planning on doing anything stupid, are you?"

"I'm not planning on killing myself tonight, if that's what you mean. I'm not doing that until I get the bastard who killed Sirius."

The fingers tightened for a moment and then James slid into the chair next to Remus. "Don't you dare talk like that!"

"Who's going to stop me, James? You? You're going back to hiding after this. You have a family to worry about—"

"_You_ are as much my family as Lily and Harry are," James protested. "I've lost Sirius. I can't lose you, too."

Remus took another drink. "It's war, James. You knew we could all die."

"But not like that, Remus. Not by your own hand."

"If I kill the one who killed Sirius, I'll probably go to Azkaban." Another quick drink made him realise something. "Or get a silver bullet. Then it won't be my own hand. Would that be better?"

While James struggled for an answer, Remus handed back the flask and then reached into his inner jacket pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. He tried not to let James see how badly his hands were shaking as he lit up and inhaled the noxious nicotine-tainted fumes. He leaned over, letting his arms rest on his legs, concentrating on the red embers at the tip of the cigarette between his fingers so he wouldn't have to look at James.

James cleared his throat. "Remember when he started the fire in the—"

"Yes."

"Moony," the voice was gently chiding, "there's nothing wrong with remembering the good times that we had." James chuckled lightly. "Or even the ones that weren't so good. It might help if you think about what we had—"

"If I remember what I had, I'll remember what I lost," Remus snapped.

"But it might help if—"

"It might help what, James? It might help _me_? It might help _you_? It might help _them_?" The hand with the cigarette made a motion toward the door.

"I just think if—"

"If I start thinking about him, then I'll have to start thinking about how I'll never see him smile again. I'll have to think about how I'll never hear him laugh or tease me about how I worry too much or work too hard." The cigarette was tossed down and Remus ground it viciously into the concrete with a leather-encased toe. "I'll have to remember how he always would threaten to go hex every person who's fired me because I'm a werewolf. I'll have to think about how I no longer have to worry about having his favourite kind of crisps in the pantry, and that I don't have to buy that bloody stupid shampoo again that made me sneeze. I'll have to face the fact that I won't ever again get the best good night kisses I've ever got, and that I won't be able to see him in the morning, with his hair falling into his eyes and his bloody awful morning breath."

He'd rambled through those sentences with barely a breath. But the deep inhalation he took now brought a sharp pain in his chest and tears to his eyes, and he couldn't hide the trembling of his body from James if he'd wanted to. "If I start thinking, James, I might bloody well go mad knowing I no longer have Padfoot. And I'll have to remember the last time we fought and the last time we fucked and I'll have to start facing the fact that I don't have _him,_ and I can't, I just... can't..."

James was there to grab him around the shoulders as he fell, sobbing, to his knees on the cold concrete. The muscular arms were strong and comforting, and he heard the softly whispered comments: "I know, I'll miss him, too... miss how he tried to teach Harry how to swear... miss his bloody stupid jokes..."

James' hands never stopped rubbing Remus' back in a calming, circular motion, even after their knees had started to ache, and the cold from the concrete had started seeping through the material and into their skin.

Remus heard the back door open, and he started to pull away, raising a hand to wipe at his eyes. James firmed his grip on Remus and said to whomever it was, "Give us a minute."

The door closed softly.

"It was just Lily."

"I've been beastly to her," Remus muttered.

"You've been beastly to all of us."

"James—"

"It's all right, Moony. It's okay. I'm only teasing you a bit. Actually, it's perfectly all right if you march in there and toss every piece of glass you can put your paws on at the walls. You're entitled."

Remus drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I miss him, James."

"I do, too."

"How am I supposed to do this without him?"

"We'll see each other through this."

His friend's words finally penetrated through some of his misery. "Gods, I've been so—" Remus drew back and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "You—he—and you've lost him, too—"

"It's all right." James pushed the flask back into Remus' hand. "I've been crying on Lily's shoulder for a week now."

They found their chairs again, and though tears were still slipping down Remus' cheeks and grief was still heavy in his chest, he no longer felt like he was going to explode from his tightly-controlled emotions. Still there was something that still needed to be said. "I want the bastard that killed him, James."

"Moony, if I could get you close enough to Voldemort—"

"No. Not Voldemort. Though I want his head on a pike, too. No, I mean the one who gave Sirius up to Voldemort."

James nodded slowly but firmly.

Remus stood up and reached for another cigarette. He paced restlessly for a few moments, but James let him do it, recognising it as a way that Remus had of gathering his thoughts.

"Two nights before the Fidelius, we had a fight," Remus abruptly said.

"What was it about?" James asked.

Remus sighed and rubbed his temple with his fingers. "Gods, it seems bloody ridiculous now."

"What did he do? Leave a wet towel on the floor? Bend a page in one of your books?"

"No, nothing like that." Remus eyed his friend carefully. "He accused me of being the spy in the Order."

James sat up straight. "What? He told you that?"

"I've been—" Remus glanced behind him at the door. Satisfied that it was closed and no one was near the window that overlooked the garden, he lowered his voice and went on: "—visiting the werewolf packs, trying to gain some support for the Order. Or at the very least, sow a little discontent at Voldemort's offers to bring us equal rights and liberties."

"Bloody hell, Remus!" James whispered, his eyes wide. He ran a hand over the back of his head then chuckled curtly. "Moony, we've heard the stories. You can get killed—"

Remus cut him off almost rudely. "I know. But it's something only I can do."

"But—"

"Sirius was pissed off that I'd hidden this from him."

"You had us all wondering! Gods, Remus, why didn't you just bloody tell us?"

"Dumbledore told me not to tell anyone. My position in the werewolf community is shaky at best..." He broke off, sucking deeply on the cigarette. "There have been times it's been all I can do to go back. It's not... pleasant, and... I think Dumbledore was worried that if Sirius tried to talk me out of going back, I might listen."

James pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up as he did. "He told me he thought you either were a Death Eater or were fucking around," he admitted finally. "Just for the record, he was hoping for the second..."

"Two nights before the Fidelius, he finally told me of his suspicions." Remus closed his eyes briefly. "I thank every god there is that we got it straightened out. If he'd died thinking I was the spy..." He shuddered.

"Oh, hell, Remus..."

"For the past three or four months, we've been having problems, James, and I had no idea why. I thought it was just because I was spending so much time away. I didn't think it was because he didn't trust me." The brown-haired man sat down in his chair and clasped his hands together. "I wouldn't have known what had gone wrong. And he wouldn't have known the truth because he was planning on leaving me."

"No—"

"Yes. He was going to suggest you take on another Secret Keeper, but then he'd leave so that people would think it was him. He was going to leave England and go to the continent _without_ _telling_ _me_."

"Another Secret Keeper?" James repeated, obviously trying to follow the conversation, but sounding more than a little confused.

"He was afraid that everyone would know he was the Secret Keeper —No. That's wrong. He was afraid I would know he was the Secret Keeper and I'd somehow be able to get your location out of him." Remus took another drag of nicotine. "He said he wouldn't have been able to resist me," he said with a curt and bitter laugh. "So, he thought it'd be better if you chose another Secret Keeper and not tell me. Then I'd still think he was the Secret Keeper when he disappeared. He said he thought Voldemort would send me after him, and the Secret Keeper could stay here and stay safe."

"Damn. That's almost too complicated for me to follow. How was he going to convince me to go along with that, then?"

Remus shrugged. "I don't know. It's—it _was_ Sirius." The change in verb tense made both Remus and James wince. "We talked for hours that night—"

"Wait. That morning you came over for breakfast and nearly fell asleep in the eggs?"

The left side of Remus' lips rose slightly. "Yes."

"He said you two had shagged all night, you know."

"Well, we weren't ready to go over it all over again with you and Lily. Not at that point. We needed to work everything else out first."

"And did you?" James' question was soft and hesitant, unsure if he should ask.

Long fingers flicked ash from the end of the cigarette and then scratched at a jaw that could now be considered to be bearded, not just stubbled. "Yes, but I know there were other issues we were going to have to address. Trust has always been an issue for us, James, from the time we were at Hogwarts. He was willing to —" The sound of the door opening again interrupted Remus, and he turned quickly to see who it was, bringing the cigarette to his lips as he did.

"Hey, Pete," James said with an attempt at a smile.

"How are you, Moony?" Peter asked, dropping onto one of the chairs.

"How do you think I am?" Remus retorted, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. "Gods, if I hear that bloody question one more time, I'll howl."

He saw Peter's furtive, anxious look at James. Irritation nudged at Remus, but it didn't flare as hotly and fiercely as it might have earlier.

"Some of the others are getting ready to leave," Peter said to Remus. "I thought I'd let you know in case you wanted to talk to them before they left."

"I have nothing to say to anyone right now," Remus replied, dropping the cigarette to the ground.

"It is getting late," James said, glancing at his watch. "Lily needs to get Harry in the bath... Remus, why don't you come with us?"

Remus shook his head. "No. I'm going home. I need to be by myself for a bit."

"You're not going to do anything mad and ridiculously idiotic?"

"No. I'll save that for whenever I catch the one who was responsible for telling Voldemort that Sirius was the Secret Keeper."

"Honestly, Remus, I don't think it would have taken much for people to put two and two together," Peter said in gentle protest. "Everyone knows Sirius was the one that James is closest to. It's almost a foregone conclusion."

"But someone in the Order had to have told Voldemort that the Fidelius was cast in the first place, and then told him where to find Sirius. There is no other reasonable explanation for the fact that Voldemort knew where Sirius was—and why it was so important for the Death Eaters to get him. No, someone in the Order is responsible for Sirius' death, and I'm going to find out who it is and wring his neck with my bare hands."

"Sounds painful," Peter said, putting his hands protectively around his neck.

"The bastard deserves to die," Remus muttered.

James stood up. "Moony will make certain it's painful, so you'd best be glad you're not the spy, Wormtail."

_It still won't be as painful as living without Sirius. _Grief welled up again, and Remus put his hand on his chest, expecting to feel the burn through his skin and clothing.

James was watching him closely and saw the gesture. He wrapped one arm around Remus' shoulders, squeezed lightly, and then stepped away. "I'd best go get Lily." He shot Peter a look and a tilt of his head that Remus tried to overlook because he knew what it meant.

They'd known each other too long for Peter to ignore James' tacit order, however. "Remus, how about if I stop at yours for a bit?" Peter asked. "We can drink a toast or two to Padfoot and maybe play a game of chess or something."

"I appreciate the thought, Peter, really. But I just want to—"

"Moony, please let him," James said, with a slight pleading note in his words. "Just for a bit."

Remus started to protest again, but James spoke again, more firmly this time. "If you don't let Peter take you home, I'll show up, leaving Lily and Harry alone at home, just so I can make sure you're all right—"

"Fine!" Remus snapped. He drew a deep breath and tried to smile at Peter. "It's not that I don't appreciate the thought, you know..."

"I know." Peter thumped him on the back a couple of times. "Let's go, Moony."

* * *

They were able to get away with little trouble and soon were standing in the kitchen of the flat that Sirius had bought with his Uncle Alphard's bequest.

"Will you stay here?" Peter asked as Remus handed him a butterbeer.

Remus glanced around. "I don't know." But as he said that, he saw Sirius' favourite coffee mug which he'd not been able to put away. Tears sprang, not unexpectedly, to his eyes and he sighed.

The place on the counter where Sirius liked to perch himself while Remus cooked their meals; the spot on the couch that was defined early on as Sirius'; the wall in the hallway against which Remus had pinned Sirius two nights before the Fidelius, when he'd demanded that Sirius talk to him... Was there any thing or any place that Remus could look upon without remembering something about Sirius?

"I'll set up the chessboard," Peter volunteered, heading for the living room.

Remus nodded and went into the bedroom to change out of his suit. Every move was laborious and reluctant, his limbs feeling leaden now that he was back in what Sirius had often called their den.

"Black or white?" Peter called.

_What does it matter, now that Sirius is gone?_

"It doesn't matter. You choose," he replied.

"Your queen is already insulting my bishop!"

Remus smiled slightly. "If yours is the black bishop, he told her she needed to be exorcised. She didn't take it well."

He stepped back into the living room and, seeing Peter on the couch, dropped onto the floor on the other side of the coffee table.

The other young man grinned. "Your queen just told my bishop what he could do to the other bishop. She's got some vocabulary."

"Thanks to Sirius," Remus said, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. "King's pawn up two."

Peter watched the piece move then said, "I really am sorry about Sirius."

Shocked at the sudden apology, Remus looked up, his brow furrowed.

Peter was continuing, though he seemed very uncomfortable. "I know this will sound stupid, but even though I knew you two were... together, I didn't really know how much you, well, you know."

"You didn't know how much I loved him?"

Peter bit at his bottom lip and then nodded. "You were always just Moony and Padfoot, Sirius and Remus. I never thought of you two like, oh, I don't know. Like I think of James and Lily, I guess."

"That's all right," Remus said, looking back down at the chessboard. "Not many people did. Two blokes aren't supposed to feel that way toward each other."

Peter sighed. "But you were good together. You were good for him." He sent a pawn of his own into play.

"You think so?" Remus was surprised to see his hands were steady as he reached for his pack of cigarettes and his lighter.

"Yeah." Peter didn't explain further, but Remus didn't ask for clarification. Instead, he ordered his king's bishop up three squares and watched as Peter attacked with a knight.

"I'm surprised he didn't tell you where James and Lily were," the Animagus did say.

"He took his responsibility seriously," Remus murmured, moving his queen forward.

"Oh, I'm not falling for that again," Peter said with a laugh, recognising the strategy that Remus had once used to win a game in four moves. "So, now he's gone and the secret still holds... James and Lily are the safest they'll ever be, aren't they?"

Remus rubbed his chin with his thumb, keeping the burning end of the cigarette carefully away from his face. "Unless Sirius did something stupid and wrote the address down somewhere."

"Why would he do that?" Peter asked in surprise, glancing up quickly.

"He did joke once that if something happened to him, no one would know where James and Lily were, so he should write it down and put it under the same kinds of spells we used on the Map."

Peter's eyes widened. "He wouldn't!"

Remus shrugged. "I don't think he would. He worried too much about keeping them safe. It is your move, you know."

"Oh, sorry."

They fell silent for a few minutes as the game progressed.

As they watched Remus' queen take one of Peter's pawns, Peter suddenly asked, "Do you ever feel like we're pawns, Moony?"

"Pawns? How so?"

"Like we're just moving in the directions other people are telling us we're supposed to go, following rules and orders that we don't entirely understand..."

"I suppose I do to some extent," Remus admitted, thinking about the werewolf pack and wondering how long mourning would excuse him from returning.

Peter was silent for a moment, contemplating the board and then asked quietly, without looking up, "Do you ever get tired of it?"

"I'm tired of it right now," Remus confessed just as quietly, fiercely crushing the stub of his cigarette into the ashtray.

"Tired enough to walk away from it?" This time, Peter's eyes rose to meet Remus'.

"It's not a good time to ask me these things," Remus said.

"Because...?"

"Gods, Peter," Remus sighed and leaned back on his hands, tilting his head back and closing his eyes so he couldn't see his friend's face.

"I just wondered if you might leave the Order now that Sirius was... gone."

Peter's words made Remus frown. "Did you think my decision to fight for the Order is so out of character that I wouldn't do it unless Sirius had dragged me into it?" He still didn't open his eyes, afraid to see the look of guilt he could imagine crossing Peter's face.

"No, that's not what I meant, really." Peter said, sounding surprisingly thoughtful. "I keep thinking of those who have already been killed: Benjy, the Prewetts... and now Sirius... Sirius wasn't supposed to die, Remus. I didn't think any of us would die."

Remus pushed himself back up until he was leaning over the chessboard again. He didn't meet Peter's eyes as he said, "The odds were against us, Peter. I reckoned that one of us would die. I had prayed it wouldn't happen. I had hoped it wouldn't, but..." He shrugged and waited for Peter's response.

What came next was not what Remus had expected.

"Do you think there's a chance he's still alive?"

Remus stiffened. "Sirius?"

"Yes." Peter fidgeted with the pieces he'd captured, not looking at Remus directly.

"No. He can't be," Remus said, thinking of the jacket and the wand that were secreted in a box in the closet by the front door. "He just... couldn't be."

"We never found him," Peter pressed gently. "How do you know?"

"Oh, fuck, Peter!" Remus lurched to his feet and stumbled a few feet away, pressing his fingers to his temples.

"I mean, you never did tell us what evidence there was, only that it was nearly irrefutable."

"Oh, gods, Peter, I can't even think of it!"

"But if there's a chance..."

"No. No." Remus' mind was awhirl with the horrible possibilities that were suddenly presenting themselves. "Fuck. No! Peter—" He didn't dare voice what he was thinking, but the other young man very gently persisted:

"If he's alive, though—"

The words practically tumbled over themselves. "If he's alive, then the Death Eaters have him and I can't bear to think of what he's going through and the fact that I'm not trying to save him..."

"Stop, Moony! Stop!" Peter sprang forward and grabbed the werewolf's arm. "Shite, mate, I didn't mean to upset you like this! I was just wondering..."

Remus dropped onto the couch and buried his face in his trembling hands. "Oh, gods, Peter, what if I was wrong?"

"Well, Dumbledore did verify it, didn't he? I mean, somehow he found out, right?"

Remus nodded.

Peter patted his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Moony. I shouldn't have said anything. Wait here. I'll be back."

Remus heard the smaller man go over to the small cabinet on the far side of the room in which their liquor was kept. A clinking of glass and a minute later, he was back, pressing a glass into Remus' hand.

"Bottoms up, Moony."

The Firewhiskey pooled in his belly, helping to distract him from the sharp needles in his heart and lungs. Surely, Sirius couldn't still be alive. Could he? If there was a chance he was still alive, then Dumbledore would have organised a rescue, right? He wouldn't have left Sirius in the hands of the Death Eaters...

"That's not even a possibility," Peter said, suddenly making Remus aware that he'd been muttering those things aloud. "Dumbledore wouldn't leave him there with no hope of rescue."

"I don't know what hurts worse," Remus whispered. "That he is truly gone or the thought that he might be in their hands."

"I was wrong for bringing it up," Peter said, motioning for Remus to take another drink. "Oh, hell, Remus." He took a deep breath. "I suppose I don't want it to be true, either, that he's dead. I suppose that's why I asked. I want to come up with another alternative, another way that it's all... different."

Remus ran his thumb along the side of the glass. "I'd do anything to make it different, Peter. _Anything_."

Peter left not long after that and Remus wandered through the rooms of the flat, nursing yet another glass of Firewhiskey and another cigarette, unable to sleep.

The flat was filled with memories and he hadn't been able to stay here for any extended period of time since he'd found that leather jacket on the doorstep. He'd spent many hours walking around London, deliberately trying to stay away from the flat so he wouldn't be reminded of Sirius.

However, he'd also stood next to their wardrobe with his face buried in Sirius' clothes, trying to absorb the scent of his lover and wanting desperately to feel the man's warmth in the threads of the shirts and robes. He'd sat for several minutes staring at the chair that Sirius usually sat in at the kitchen table, futilely waiting for it to be filled by the body that he was so intimately acquainted with.

Regardless of what he'd said to Peter, he already knew he wouldn't be able to keep this flat. He'd stay until Lily—ever the pragmatist—would begin to suggest, very subtly, that he replace something of Sirius' with something new. She herself would probably bring the first piece. His eyes lit on the autographed poster in the corner of the room. He could imagine Lily standing by the wall, holding up a framed poster of the French countryside or maybe even _Water Lilies_ by Monet. And she'd say, "I found this in a charity shop on the corner and thought of you... What about here? You don't really like The Clash, do you?"

After that, it would be a matter of time until she and James would convince him, albeit reluctantly, to pack up a few of Sirius' things and put them in a box to be kept in a closet. A few days later, James would show up at the flat with a bottle of liquor, offering to help him pack Sirius' clothes away. They'd discuss the more interesting stories behind how and why Sirius chose the clothing he did and they'd laugh and cry while they slowly stripped the hangers bare at the same time that they stripped Remus' heart even more naked.

Then, when there was nothing visible of Sirius left, it would mean that Sirius was truly gone.

Remus couldn't stay here then.

He couldn't stay here _now_. He had to go. He had to walk.

He grabbed his jacket from near the door and then disappeared into the cold, foggy London streets to ramble aimlessly until he had nowhere else to go but home.


	2. Chapter 2

****

By the time he'd arrived back at the flat, he'd come to a conclusion. He took time to change his clothes and neaten his overall appearance just a little before Apparating to Hogsmeade.

Rosmerta, the barmaid at The Three Broomsticks, looked up from washing the windows as he approached the tavern.

"Remus Lupin!" She directed the rag to keep scrubbing at the glass while she reached out to grab Remus' hand between both of hers. "I was sorry to hear about Sirius."

So the news had reached Hogsmeade...

"Thank you." He nodded once in polite acceptance.

"You'll pass my sympathies on to James and Peter, too, won't you?"

Again he nodded. "I will. Think I could get some breakfast, Rosmerta?"

"Go on in. Bridget's inside. And make sure you eat every bite. Lord love ya, but it looks like you haven't eaten for days!"

He smiled tiredly as she opened the door and ushered him inside.

He hadn't realised how cool the morning had been until he was seated near the fireplace, with a steaming cup of tea held tightly between his palms. It felt pleasant, and for just a moment, he let himself feel comforted by the heat on his back and in his hands. It was the first time in days that he hadn't felt chilled all the way through. He wasn't sure if that was because he'd made the decision he had or if he was coming to accept Sirius' passing and absence. He felt the chill start to invade his skin again as he worried that it might be the latter.

Bridget offered him a consoling pat on the shoulder that nearly broke his clavicle as she placed the plate of eggs and sausage in front of him, swiping at her nose with her apron. She'd always been rather partial to Sirius. "This is compliments of the house," she told him, motioning to the plate of food.

"I can't allow you to do that, Bridget," he protested gently.

"You let me do this, ducky," she said, almost sobbing. "I know what he meant to ya."

As Remus pondered her words, he realised she probably did realise just how much Sirius had meant to him. Remus and Sirius had always kept their relationship as hidden as they could for a myriad of reasons, but those that had seen them together for extended periods of time were often able to see the truth for themselves, should they choose to see it. Bridget, who had once eyed Sirius as a potential spouse for her niece, Rosmerta, despite their class differences, had fairly quickly sussed out the reason why Sirius didn't seem entranced by the busty girl. She'd never held his disinterest in Rosmerta against him, however; in fact, she seemed to take great pleasure in flirting with him herself occasionally.

Remus ate automatically, thinking on what was to come next. He doubted any of it was going to be pleasant, but he had his mind made up. He smiled grimly, thinking that his stubbornness and resolve was going to come as quite a surprise to the wily man who'd put him in this position in the first place.

So, after he finished, he trudged out of town and to the front gates of Hogwarts. The twin stone boars on either side of the gates looked down at him with blank expressions.

"I need to see the Headmaster," Remus told them, raising his chin defiantly.

The sound of grating stone accompanied the boars' turning their heads to look at each other. The one on the left flicked a stone wing infinitesimally.

"It's rather important," he added.

There was a long silent moment during which the boars turned their gazes upon him, regarding him with as much curiosity as the stone would allow. He stood unflinching beneath the weight of their stares until there was a clicking noise and the right gate popped open a few inches. He nodded to the boars and slithered through the gap, pausing only to push the gate closed behind him.

The door to Dumbledore's office was already open when he got there, and the Headmaster was waiting for him.

"Come in, Remus," the older wizard bade him. He motioned to two comfortable-looking wing chairs that were flanking the large fireplace. "I took the liberty of asking the house-elves to bring up some mulled cider and some gingerbread."

"Thank you, sir, but I've already eaten."

Dumbledore sat down in one of the chairs, smoothing his robes out over his legs and passed an elegant hand over his beard. "What can I do for you, then?"

Remus traced the rim of the ceramic mug with his fingertip and then cocked his head to the side and regarded the Headmaster from beneath his sandy-brown fringe. "Two days before the Fidelius, Sirius and I had a fight. He accused me of being the spy in the Order. So I told him where I'd been going."

He saw Dumbledore's fingers curl into the hair of the long white beard and then tug slightly.

Not even attempting to soften his sharp tone, Remus continued, "I should have told him months ago. He deserved to know the truth and I kept it from him. He didn't trust me and I can't blame him." He took a deep, shuddering breath and set the mug firmly down on the Headmaster's desk. "I accepted what you asked me to do and I accepted all of your terms, but I can't do it anymore."

Dumbledore tensed visibly at Remus' declaration, and he slowly lowered his hand to grip the arm of his chair.

"I know you're going to want me to go back," Remus continued, "and I will. I know it's something that only I can do. But I want James to know where I am. I want him to know what I'm doing."

The other wizard's relief was evident, but he cautiously asked, "Do you think that's wise?"

"I need this. I _deserve_ this," Remus replied firmly. "If something happens to me, I want someone to know that I wasn't the spy. I want someone to know that I died trying to protect those who mean everything to me. I refuse to bear the brunt of the suspicion in the Order any longer. Or, if I must, I want one person—other than you—to know that I'm not so disloyal, so dishonourable, or so stupid as to believe Voldemort's lies."

Dumbledore sat back and rubbed the arms of his chair slowly, gazing at Remus intensely. The younger man refused to look away, refused to flinch, and damn well refused to give in.

"Can I assume that you've already spoken to James?" the older man finally asked.

Encouraged by the amused twitching of the Headmaster's lips, Remus nodded. "I did. Last night."

"And his reaction to what you've been doing?"

"Shock, mainly. Dismay that I was placing myself into harm's way without telling them." Remus reached into his jacket pocket for a cigarette and placed it, unlit, between his lips. The Headmaster would never allow him to light it, but Remus was hoping the faint taste of the tobacco would stave off the need for nicotine in the stress of the situation.

"You do realise that he more than likely told Lily."

Remus sighed. "Yes, I suppose he has."

"So there are now two people who know what you're doing."

"But they're unlikely to tell anyone else, being as they're hiding under a Fidelius."

"Understand, Remus, that James and Lily are not the only ones who are in danger. You are involved very deeply in one of the most dangerous aspects of the magical world that anyone could possibly be and there is absolutely no way that we can get to you quickly should the need arise. You add even more immediate danger every time that someone else knows what you are doing."

"But—"

"Not even three minutes ago, you told me that you refused to be the brunt of the suspicions in the Order of being the spy. If you are not the spy, then the spy is someone else known by us—known by _you_. How long until that individual hears of your mission and tells Voldemort?"

Remus rolled the cigarette between his fingers and shrugged. "I am nothing. Voldemort will know that. I'm a half-blood, half-breed Dark creature. I can bring nothing to him that he doesn't already have. I'm not worth him coming after."

"Your worth to him, now that Sirius is gone, has grown. The fact that you are a friend to the Potters could be priceless. If either Voldemort or the spy are convinced you know where James and Lily are—"

"If I knew, and I've told everyone that I don't, they'd still be protected by the Fidelius."

"They could try to extract that information from you."

"It can't be done," Remus pointed out, exasperation beginning to tinge his words.

"Do you think that will stop Voldemort from using every bit of torture and terror that he can to try to get you to tell him something, anything, about the Potters?"

Remus closed his eyes, hoping to hide the stinging tears that had risen to his eyes. "Like he did Sirius?"

"My dear boy—"

He opened his eyes again, wanting Dumbledore to see his determination. "Sirius didn't break. Nor will I."

* * *

There was a set of mirrors that Sirius and James had bought that allowed them to communicate with one another—an asset when planning pranks that required two teams moving in two separate directions to act in concert with one another. Before leaving to hide from Voldemort, Sirius had placed his on the mantel, telling Remus that he would be better able to help the Potters than Sirius himself if circumstances demanded it.

_"Think, Moony. You'll be here, moping about the flat, missing me, while I'm lying on a beach somewhere. You'll need the distractions that only Prongs can provide..."_

"_You make that sound positively lewd."_

"_Just don't go falling in love with him, because that would leave Lily for me and I just don't know if I can handle her."_

Remus reached for the mirror now and cradled it gently in his hands. "Prongs," he said quietly.

There was silence and so he repeated the nickname a little louder.

"Moony?" He heard his name come from the mirror before Prongs' face appeared, looking both puzzled and concerned. "Are you all right?"

He forced a smile. "As fine as I can be right now, yes. I did want you to know that I'm going back to the pack tomorrow."

He saw alarm explode in James' eyes, though the dark-haired man kept his face neutral. "Shouldn't you wait for a few more days? The full moon is in two nights."

Touched that James had known when the full moon was without even having to think about it, Remus smiled sadly then shook his head. "No. If I go back now, it will help them to trust me. But, Prongs—James—you can't tell anyone where I am."

"It would help the Order to trust you, if they knew what you were doing," James started to protest.

"No, it won't. It will only serve to make them wonder even more whose side I was really on," Remus countered. "Did you tell Lily where I've been?"

James hesitated before nodding. "Sorry, Moony, but you didn't tell me not to say anything to her."

"No problem. But don't tell anyone else." Remus inhaled deeply. "Not even Peter."

James' eyebrows lowered fractionally. "He'll be hurt—"

"I know. But, as Dumbledore so helpfully pointed out, Peter and I are the next ones that Voldemort might concentrate on capturing in order to try to find you. The less Peter knows, the better."

"Moony, knowing less wouldn't save him, you know. Voldemort would kill him in the end, anyhow, whether Peter knows where you are or where we are or not."

"I know, I know. Just—please. Don't tell Peter. Or anyone else. Not unless something happens. If something happens to me, make sure they all know that I wasn't who they think I am."

James drew back so that all Remus could see was the ceiling. There was the sound of a long, drawn-out sigh, and then James' face reappeared. "You don't have to go back to the werewolf pack to prove your loyalty to the Order."

"You're right," Remus agreed. He steeled himself for what he was going to say next because he knew James would not like it. "But I do if I want to try to keep others like me from becoming Voldemort's hunting dogs. Gods, James. If you knew how some of them live, you'd know why they're so anxious to believe when someone says they'll offer them equality and opportunities for a _life_. I know it will never happen, so if I can save just a handful of them..."

"You really think you can make a difference." It was both statement and question and had a good deal of disbelief threading through it.

"No, not... Yes... Maybe. I don't know. I just know I have to try. This is what I _can _do. I'm not good for much else, James."

"Don't say that!" The reply was fierce and the scowl angry. "Don't ever say that!"

"It's true. And no one else in the Order can do this. I have to go, James."

"Remus, if you go—"

"There's no 'if' about it, James."

"_When_ you go, then... Will you take the mirror with you, just so I know you can reach me if you need to?"

Remus debated it carefully. If he wrapped it up and kept it with a razor, no one would suspect it as anything other than a shaving mirror. "I will," he finally agreed.

"Are you sure you have to go tomorrow? Why not wait until after the full moon?"

Remus felt the lump rising in his throat and swallowed hard. "This will be my first transformation since I've lost Sirius," he said softly. "If I'm with the others, well, let's just say it will serve me well, and they'll be able to handle me. I'd rip you to shreds, Prongs.

"Will you get in touch with me the morning after? Just to be sure—?" James left the question open-ended, but Remus knew what he wanted to say.

"I'll try. I can't promise any more than that."

"Bloody hell, Remus..." James' voice cracked.

Remus felt his eyes sting and realised he had to end the conversation before they both started crying like babies. "I have to start packing."

James nodded and then cleared his throat. "Just to let you know, I promised Sirius that I'd look after you if anything happened to you. I can't do that if you're with the pack, now, can I?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Remus shook his head.

"If anything happens to you, he'll probably come back to haunt me, and, honestly, Remus, I think an undead Sirius walking around my house might make me barking mad. Lily would never have sex with me again because she'd be worried he'd start watching. So, don't do anything that will make him want to haunt me, all right?"

"I'll do my best," Remus said hoarsely. It was the most he could promise, and they both knew it. "Take care of yourself, James."

"Stuck here in the house with a redhead and a toddler?" James forced a smile. "I might be safer going with you."

Remus grinned. "Goodbye, Prongs."

"Goodbye, Moony."

* * *

A crystal phoenix had been placed on a shelf next to the Potters' Floo. It was beautiful in its simplicity and sparkled with dozens of colours when light was directed on it. Its purpose was more than just to decorate the room: since the Potters were in isolation, it had become a quick—if somewhat unorthodox—means of communication with Albus Dumbledore.

When James walked through the living room two days after Remus had last talked to him, the sculpture was pulsing with a lilac light. It didn't register at first to the disgruntled, messy-haired man who was intent only on getting a cup of tea to help calm him after trying to put his son down for a nap. It wasn't until he'd gone into the kitchen and started to boil some water for tea that his mind sluggishly pointed out to him that something was different.

He darted back into the living room, saw the throbbing light purple, and yelled, "Lily!"

The petite redhead ran down the steps, sounding more thunderous than her slight form would have suggested. "What is—?" She broke off, seeing the glowing statuette. "Oh, God. Albus has news."

"It may be nothing. Or maybe it's good news for once," James said, reaching up to touch the crystal bird's beak. Green light flooded through the crystal, originating from where his finger had touched the phoenix, meaning that one of the Potters were acknowledging the change in colour.

Lily opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself as the green changed to blue, symbolising a problem with one of their friends. It throbbed with the sapphire light for several seconds and then faded away completely, leaving the phoenix crystal clear once more.

"Remus is in trouble," she muttered.

"It could be Peter," James offered as a token resistance, though the werewolf had been the first one in his mind, too.

"Peter isn't with murderous creatures right now," Lily snapped.

James glanced over at the grandfather clock in the corner. "I'll go see what has Dumbledore worried. I should be back within an hour." He paused just long enough to kiss his wife goodbye and grab his Invisibility Cloak then ran out the back door for the closest Apparition area.

* * *

It took him quite a while to make his way across the Hogwarts grounds and through the school without being touched or detected by the students and staff. That and his ability to imagine an untold number of dire scenarios in which Remus—or Peter—could be involved made him rather curt with his greeting to Dumbledore once he'd reached the Headmaster's Office.

"What's happened?"

The older wizard looked up from the book that he had been reading. "Good afternoon, James. Thank you for coming so quickly. Would you like something to drink? Tea, perhaps? The House-elves have outdone themselves with their muffins. They've also sent up scones."

Seeing the wizard's warm smile comforted James somewhat. If something were wrong, surely the man would not be quite so casually inviting James to have something to eat.

"Maybe I will have a cup of tea and a scone," he said, sliding into the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk. "I had been planning on having a small snack when I saw the phoenix." He motioned to a crystal phoenix—the twin to the one in his living room—sitting on the corner of the Headmaster's desk.

"I do apologise for disturbing you." Dumbledore went to the sideboard to retrieve the scones and to pour some steaming tea from a gleaming silver tea service. The dainty china cup had brightly coloured unicorns dancing around its sides which made James smile, despite his concern.

"I will assume that Remus talked to you before he left on his latest mission," the Headmaster said after making sure that James was comfortable and had milk and sugar for his tea.

"He did," James affirmed. "I'll confess I tried to talk him out of going."

"He's done remarkably well so far," Dumbledore said. "It is a difficult thing I've asked of him; it is certainly a thankless mission."

"Why haven't you allowed him to tell us where he's been going?" James asked, trying not to sound accusatory.

The older wizard sighed. "I had several reasons, but none of them seem to be... reasonable, when looking at them in retrospect. Ultimately, I was concerned about his safety." He waited until James had carefully placed his cup on his saucer before saying, "I fear there might be a problem now, however, that makes me glad that he insisted on telling you what he was doing."

The dark-haired young man sat up very straight in the chair. "What's happened?"

"I feared that the spy in the Order might hear of Remus' mission and would tell Voldemort that he was with the werewolves. As it would be nearly impossible to protect him there, it would be very easy for the Death Eaters to capture him. Another fear was that they would send Fenrir Greyback after him."

"Who is Fenrir Greyback?"

Dumbledore seemed slightly surprised that James had asked. "He is the werewolf who bit Remus. He has the evil desire to create as many werewolves as possible so that they can eventually destroy the wizarding world."

James frowned. "Why doesn't the Ministry do something to stop him?"

"Part of the problem is that he's very good at hiding. I also believe that he has had support from a few of Voldemort's highly placed Ministry followers so that he hasn't been aggressively sought."

"What would Voldemort want with him?"

"If you received a warning saying that, as a member of the Ministry, you had to do what Voldemort ordered you to do, or Greyback and his pack would attack your child, would you not do it?"

"All you'd have to do is keep your family inside during the full moon..."

"If they've grabbed your child two or three days before that?" Dumbledore shook his head. "There were rumours that Greyback was following Voldemort's orders to attack particular children. Their partnership, which is of a very parasitic nature—they feed off one another—might very well seem to make sense. Up until a few months again, no one would confirm anything to the Aurors. But Remus has been able to confirm much of it. He was there in March when one child was taken. Unfortunately, he was unable to get away in time to tell us where the child was. She succumbed to the bites two days after the full moon."

"Wait." James' eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose. "March. That little girl—"

"Yes, Heather Watkins."

"Oh, gods. Now it makes sense. Remus had come back after being gone for a while and was... not himself." James didn't feel it necessary to tell Dumbledore how much Firewhiskey Remus had drank and how little he'd eaten and slept for two weeks after returning. "Sirius was at his wit's end, and then Remus left again for a week..."

"Now, that had a decidedly better ending," the Headmaster said with a smile. "He did manage to get the name of the werewolves' next intended victim, and he was able to notify Alastor. The child and his family were taken into protective custody and then hidden."

James pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Bloody hell. Remus never told us a word of any of this. The good or the bad."

"I did think he might tell you some of it," Dumbledore said. "I thought he might tell you of his regret that she had died, even if he could not—or would not—tell you how close he was to the situation."

James took a long drink of his tea and then raised his eyes to meet those of the Headmaster's. "It wasn't right that you made him keep that all from Sirius. He thought Remus was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake."

"Again, I can only say that I feared for Remus' safety. I thought the relationship that Sirius and Remus had would be strong enough to handle the absences. I thought their trust was strong enough to bridge the gaps in what Remus could tell Sirius." The man shook his head sadly. "I was mistaken."

James frowned. "Mistaken? They almost broke up over this."

"I am glad they were able to make things right between them before Sirius' disappearance," Dumbledore said quietly. "I know such a thing would have been very difficult for Remus to bear otherwise."

"It's been very difficult for him, regardless," James countered harshly, "and you sent him back while he's still grieving."

"It was regrettable, but I thought he might do better with something to occupy his time."

James wanted to swear at Dumbledore and give in to the rant that was forming itself in his head. Didn't the man understand them by now? Didn't he know that Remus sometimes only dealt with his emotions by ignoring them? That he would lock them so deep inside that they'd only erupt at the full moon, causing an increase in the physical damage that his wolfish self inflicted? This full moon was going to be difficult because of his grief; forcing him to have ignored giving in to the pain for the past two days while he concentrated on his mission would have done nothing but make things worse for the full moon.

It would be making things worse right _now_.

"He's going to rip himself to shreds tonight," James whispered. "Fuck." His fingers curled into helpless fists.

The Headmaster leaned forward slightly. "I need you to go get him."

"What?"

Dumbledore pulled a newspaper from beneath the book he'd been reading. "Something unexpected has happened. Turn to page six."

It was a copy of a rather obscure newspaper that had been trying to build up a readership in the past few months. The public's attachment to the _Daily Prophet_ made it an uphill climb for the new publication. It was finding it so difficult to gain a reader base that it had resorted to publishing stories that were so outlandish that people would buy it purely for the sake of reading the outrageous articles for a good laugh.

James knew immediately what Dumbledore had wanted him to see. The title of the article was: "_Werewolves Join You-Know-Who" _and a photograph accompanied it. It was obviously taken at a meeting of some kind because everyone in the photo was staring at something off to the right and they all appeared to be listening intently to the speaker. The caption beneath the photo read, "_A horde of Dark creatures listens to one of You-Know-Who's representatives."_

As James watched, one of the men in the picture leaned forward—revealing Remus sitting right behind him.

Taking James' muttered, "Bloody hell!" as confirmation that he'd seen what Dumbledore had intended, the older wizard said quietly, "Today, I learned that Greyback is planning to visit the pack that Remus is with. I don't know if it is mere coincidence or if there is more to it, but I'm not willing to risk Remus' life to find out which."

"How am I supposed to convince him to leave?" James asked after a long minute. "He thinks it's important that he be there, even when he's emotionally... well, you know. He'll fight me on coming home now."

Dumbledore stroked his beard slowly. "You might want to employ a strategy in _keeping_ with something you've tried before. Whatever _secret_ you hold to breaking Remus' resolve is something you've discovered some time ago, I would think."

* * *

"What is happening?" Lily asked frantically as James came tearing into the house.

"Remus. There's a picture of him in _Brewing News_ at some kind of meeting for Dark creatures. Dumbledore is afraid that the wrong people will find him. I have to go get him."

"James—"

But the bespectacled young man was already past her and into the other room.

"He's so stubborn, you'll never be able to get him out of there if that's where Dumbledore's sent him," Lily pointed out as she followed him into the living room.

"I know," James snapped. He went to the grandfather clock and tapped it with his wand, muttering a quick spell under his breath. A small panel flared with light and then slid back, revealing a niche in which several items had been hidden.

"James, what are you doing?" Lily asked with a gasp. "You can't—"

"I'm saving Remus," he replied, reaching for the small piece of parchment that was tucked behind everything else.

* * *

The two men snarled as they threw bare-knuckled punches at each other's faces and bodies. The blood was streaking from one man's nose; the other's left eye was swollen shut. From his position at the rear of the crowd, Remus winced inwardly as he watched a fist bury itself into what was probably a kidney. Shouts and cheers of the gathered crowd followed the blow.

It had been a fight coming for months. The two men had been manoeuvring for leadership of the village in their human form and of the pack in their wolf form. An unfortunate comment about one man's wife had culminated in this exposition of brutality.

Frankly, Remus didn't care which man won. They were cut from the same kind of cloth—angry, ferocious, and blood-thirsty. They barely knew who Voldemort was, but ascribed to Greyback's theory that werewolves could attain more rights and respect by attacking and creating more werewolves. Both of them tolerated Remus' intermittent presence because he often brought things that the pack didn't have the money to get: healing potions, blankets... Firewhiskey...

Someone touched his arm and he turned to see who it was. The woman standing next to him smiled as his eyes met hers, but turned back to watching the fight.

"Moony." The whisper was just barely heard above the noise of the crowd.

_James? _

He stiffened and slowly lowered the cigarette that had been pressed between his lips. What would James be doing here? It was impossible. It was his imagination going wild.

"Remus."

He turned his head around quickly.

"They can't hear me," James continued. "So don't worry about that."

_No, let's not worry about that. There are so many other things to worry about..._

"Are you alright, Lupin?" the man on the other side of him asked.

"Yes, yes. Fine." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously with the same hand that held his cigarette.

"Moony, I need to talk to you." This time, the whisper was accompanied by the touch of an invisible hand on his shoulder. "And for Merlin's sake, watch the bloody cancer stick! I'm right behind you!"

_Why is he here? Why is James here?_

Remus pivoted and wordlessly walked away from the crowd, too stunned to do anything else. He could sense James' presence to his right as they walked.

"Gods, Remus, is it like this all the time?" James asked quietly.

"Not all the time, no," Remus replied, sucking deeply on his cigarette and then blowing the smoke out with an aggravated sigh. _Only on the days before the full moon and the days after the full moon and the ones in between... _He glanced around and reached out until his fingers brushed cloth. Wrapping his hand around James' arm, he pulled his cloaked friend into the cottage that he usually stayed in while he was with the pack. "Why are you here?" he asked, flicking the half-finished cigarette out into the street before pushing the door shut tightly behind him and locking it.

James removed the Invisibility Cloak, slinging it over his arm. "Nice place, Moony." His disapproval at the torn wall coverings, shabby curtains, and holey furniture was apparent.

Remus suppressed a snarl. It was too close to the full moon to take offence with his best friend over something that didn't really matter. "Be thankful you don't have to live in it, then. Why are you here?"

"There was a photo in the paper of a meeting of Dark creatures. You're in it."

For a moment, Remus' heart stopped. But then he realised it couldn't mean much. After all, he _was_ a Dark creature. Why shouldn't he be at one of those meetings? "James—"

"There's more. Greyback is coming. Dumbledore doesn't know if it's coincidence or if it's because of the photo."

"Greyback? Greyback is coming—_here_?" Remus asked breathlessly. Chills raced up his spine. He'd hoped he'd never have to face the werewolf who'd bitten him. He didn't know whether Greyback would remember him or not and he wasn't sure which one would horrify him the most. He also wasn't sure of what his own reaction to seeing Greyback face-to-face might be.

"Yes. Dumbledore sent me to get you—"

Remus shook his head. "I can't. I have things I need to do here. Dumbledore expects—"

"Dumbledore expects you to get your arse out of here. Now."

"James, the full moon is less than three hours away! I can't—"

"He said you can use the Shack. He'll put up some wards to protect you while you're—"

"No. I can't go. I not only have a mission, I have responsibilities here. People depend on me."

"Damn it, Moony—"

Remus reached for the door knob, nudging James aside as he did. "I have nothing more to say, James. If Greyback's coming, he's coming. I know what I have to say. There's nothing to worry about."

"Moony, please!"

"I know it's a risk—"

"Wait." James grabbed Remus' arm with one hand and his Invisibility Cloak slipped to the floor as he reached into his pocket with the other hand.

Remus stopped, but tilted his head and gave his friend an impatient look. "What is it?"

"I have something for you to read." A piece of parchment finally made its appearance and James fumbled to unfold it.

Remus rubbed at his chin with a long forefinger, wondering whether he should be curious or concerned about what James was going to show him.

"It's important. Here." James held the paper so he could see the words.

With a heavy sigh of capitulation, Remus obligingly let his eyes slide over the parchment. His brain didn't quite keep pace with his eyes, however, because he'd already finished scanning the line before he fully comprehended what he was seeing.

_"The Potters... Godric's Hollow..."_

It was in Sirius Black's handwriting.

A shudder went through Remus and his eyes widened in dismay. "No. James. No. I can't!"

"Sirius is gone," James said softly. He refolded the paper and held it up between his fingers. "This makes you our Secret Keeper now."

"I'm a werewolf! I _can't_! We talked about this! With my condition, I'm not safe!"

"It's too late," James pointed out with a smile. "I can't take it back and even if I _Obliviate_ you, it won't change anything."

Remus sagged against the wall, his eyes closed. "The bastard told me he was going to do it. I didn't believe him."

"Come on, Moony. Let's go to the Shack."

The sandy-haired man pushed himself away from the wall and glared at his friend. "Look, Prongs, I may have been brought unwillingly into this, but I am _not_—"

James sighed. "I'm afraid you are." And with that, he raised his wand and whispered, "_Stupefy_."

* * *

Remus opened his eyes to see James' hazel ones staring down at him with concern and more than a little fear. Behind him, the gaps in the wood covering the windows of the Shrieking Shack showed nothing but the darkness of the evening sky.

"Bloody bastard," Remus whispered, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"I promised Sirius I'd keep you safe," an unrepentant James said with a shrug.

"I had a _mission_."

"And it was in danger of falling apart around you! Gods, Moony. I've just lost Sirius. Do you think I'm that anxious to lose you too?" James pleaded.

Remus turned his head away from his friend, running one shaky hand through the fringe that was falling limply over his forehead. "You had no right, James."

"Dumbledore would have sent someone else. He wanted you out of there, Remus."

"Oh, of course, it's all about what Dumbledore wants." The comment was snarled, and James took an involuntary step back. "It doesn't matter what _I_ want."

"You want to die at Greyback's hands?"

Remus shot to his feet. "He fucking made me into a monster! I deserved the chance to face him—no matter the consequences!"

"Remus—"

A shudder ripped through Remus' body, dropping him to his knees. He uttered a quiet curse and wrapped his arms around his shaking body. "Get out, James!"

"I'll stay—"

"No!" Remus shouted harshly. He ground his teeth together and closed his eyes against the pain that rippled through him. "You can't. I'm too angry, too—Gods damn it, James! I'll kill you tonight!"

"Remus, you shouldn't be alone—"

"You and bloody meddling Dumbledore should have fucking thought of that before—Shit!" Remus crossed his arms over his chest and began to rock back and forth. "James, please—"

James knelt next to his friend, ignoring the glare from eyes that were becoming more wolfish gold than human blue. "I'll leave then, but I'll be back at first light. We love you, Remus. Don't forget that."

* * *

Lily sat on the couch watching her husband pace restlessly, back and forth, across their living room floor. Each time he passed in front of the window, the moonlight silvered his body, giving him an unearthly glow.

"You did the right thing," she said softly.

"Not according to Remus," James scoffed.

"He's not unreasonable. He'll get over it."

James stopped and turned to face her. Fear was in his eyes. "But what about tonight, Lily? He's already told me it's going to be bad because of losing Sirius. Now I've made him angry. Do you realise how badly this could go?"

Lily rubbed her aching temples with her fingers and watched him pace some more.

* * *

As the first trace of daylight appeared in the sky, Lily handed James a case she'd packed with healing potions and ointments of all kinds.

"I'll get a bed ready for him," she said, kissing her husband on the cheek.

"Make sure there are bars on the window to keep him in," James advised with a grimace that was meant to be a smile. "And put bars on the door to keep him from getting out and strangling me."

She managed a slight chuckle, if only to keep his spirits up.

* * *

Remus couldn't breathe. It felt like a dragon was sitting on his chest, squeezing all the air out of it and preventing him from drawing air in.

He was never so glad to hear James' voice in his life: "Here I am, Moony, and you are absolutely going to love me for what I've brought you..."

* * *

The door banged open and Lily extended her wand, ready to curse whoever was coming through the door, should they be unwelcome. The willow wand was shoved carelessly in her back pocket as she rushed forward to help James with their injured friend.

"Welcome to Godric's Hollow," she whispered in Remus' ear.

"Didn't have... much choice," the werewolf wheezed.

"No, but I'm glad you're here anyhow," she said, lifting herself up on her tiptoes to lightly brush his cheek with her lips.

"Hey, none of that while your husband is here," James admonished teasingly. Then he leaned over and bussed Remus' other cheek. "There. Turnabout is fair play, you know."

Remus offered a half-smile, unable to do much more than that.

"I've got another potion for the pain waiting for you upstairs," Lily said. "Let's go get you settled in."

When the last bandage had been secured and Remus had swallowed the last vial of potion that Lily deemed necessary, James yawned and stretched. "I don't know about you, Moony, but I didn't get any sleep last night. I'm ready for a nap."

Remus smiled tiredly, but said nothing.

James' expectant look faded, and he ruffled the hair on the back of his head. "I'm, uh, I'll leave you to rest—" He was still muttering under his breath as he left the room.

Lily glanced toward the doorway to make sure that her husband was gone and whispered, "Don't be mad at James."

"'M not. Not really," Remus replied drowsily.

"You're just going to make him squirm a bit, aren't you?"

Remus' lips twitched.

"Good for you," Lily snickered. "Wouldn't do to let him think he's done the right thing too soon, would it?" She bent down to kiss him on the forehead. "I'd have been there, too, if it weren't for Harry, you know."

His blue eyes were glazing over with the Sleeping Draught that she'd mixed with the pain potion, and his words were slurred when he replied, "Wouldn't expect anything else."

She rested her hand on his cheek. "Sleep, love. You're safe now."

* * *

**Thanks so much for reading! **

**A review would really make my day... *pleading***


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They belong to JKRowling and her minions.**

**Many apologies to those of you who have reviewed; I know I've been bad at replying to them. Please know that I do appreciate every nice thing you've said! I hope you like this chapter as well.**

**Chapter 3:**

Lily looked up from the mixing bowl as her nearly sixteen-month-old son toddled into the room.

"There's my sweetheart," she said with a smile. "Where have you been, then?"

He clambered awkwardly on the chair beside her then peered into the bowl before looking at her and saying solemnly, "Unca Mooey hurt."

She sighed. "Yes, Uncle Moony is hurt. He'll be fine in a day or two." She'd been trying to keep Harry occupied all morning, trying to keep him from noticing that the guestroom door was closed. She'd apparently been unsuccessful. "You didn't disturb him?"

"Unca Mooey hug," Harry informed her with a big smile.

Lily's delicate eyebrows lowered. She thought she'd given Remus enough Sleeping Draught that he should have been asleep for at least two hours more. Unless a particular toddler had been quite insistent on waking one of his favourite 'uncles'... "Harry, did you wake Remus up?"

He stared at her with green eyes like her own, but there was a trace of fear across the babyish features that Lily recognised all too well. She sighed. "Sweetheart, leave Uncle Moony alone. He needs to get his sleep."

"Daddy seep."

"Yes, Daddy's asleep, too. He was up late last night waiting for Uncle Moony."

"Unca Paffoot here?"

The lump that seemed to rise in her throat every time she thought about Sirius made its appearance, and she swallowed hard. "No, Uncle Padfoot can't come here anymore, Harry. Uncle Padfoot is gone."

"He come back?"

"No, baby. I'm afraid not."

"I see Unca Paffoot." She smiled sadly at the little boy's determined tone.

"Would you like to help me finish this cake for Uncle Moony?" she asked, hoping to distract him.

"I go Unca Mooey." He tumbled from the chair so quickly, Lily was certain he'd hurt himself. Instead, he staggered to his feet and started for the door.

"Harry, I told you, leave Uncle Moony alone."

He rattled off something that was mostly indecipherable and then trotted into the other room.

"Bugger all," she muttered, hurriedly wiping her hands on a towel and heading off to grab her son.

The little boy had already started up the steps and, when she picked him up, he let out a squeal of glee –and frustration. "Go Unca Mooey," he insisted, trying to kick at her with a chubby bare foot.

"Not now, Harry. I told you, you have to let—" She stopped mid-admonishment. Was that a whimper she heard from upstairs?

_'Unca Mooey hurt,' _Harry had told her. Had he meant that Remus was in pain right then?

"Let's go see Uncle Moony," Lily said. She ignored Harry's excited noise of assent.

Remus was perched on the edge of the bed with his back to her so she couldn't see what he was doing at first.

"Remus?" She let her inquiring tone ask the question.

He glanced back at her. For a moment, she could see the taut skin over his cheekbones that she knew meant he was hurting. In the next instant, she saw the mask slam up over his eyes and his features softened the tiniest bit. "Lily?"

"Harry said you were hurting." She decided to interpret Harry's comment as being more immediate to see what Remus would say.

"It's—nothing," he said. He smiled at Harry, but it was obviously forced. "You're not supposed to tell tales to your mum, Prongslet."

She walked to the bottom of the bed and could now see he was kneading his right hand with his left. "Do you need something more for pain?"

"No," he said curtly. Something made him hiss with pain and he grimaced. "The potions you gave me before are blunting the worst of it."

"Then what's—"

"Fuck!" he suddenly whispered, bending over and reaching for his right calf with his left hand.

Lily set Harry on his feet. "Sweetheart, why don't you go and choose a stuffed toy for Uncle Moony to sleep with?"

The little boy protested for a moment or two, but finally must have decided it was a good suggestion, for he slipped off the bed and trotted off.

She knelt on the floor next to Remus, her hands going to the knot that she could see in his leg muscle. "Let me," she told him, nudging his hand out of the way. "Stretch your leg, that's it. Now, pull your toes up..."

He winced and then muttered, "Sorry, Lily. I shouldn't have said that in front of Harry."

"I won't punish you this time," she said, her fingers working gently but firmly on the cramped muscle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him still kneading at his right hand.

"I'll be all right—" he started to say, but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"Shut it, Remus," she ordered him quietly. A memory was playing in her mind: Sirius and Remus sitting at the kitchen table with them, and Sirius making a comment about needing yarrow before the next full moon... "Why didn't you remind me to give you yarrow tea?" she asked, her green eyes accusatory.

"Because you made me drink nearly an entire pot full of chamomile tea," he replied, his usual self-deprecating grin showing itself. "I thought it would be enough."

"Enough to what?" Lily demanded, finally feeling the bunched muscle starting to ease. She sighed with vexation. "Gods, Remus, how do you expect us to take care of you if you don't remind us of these things?"

He jerked his leg away from her. "I don't expect you to take care of me," he growled. "I wouldn't bloody be here if—"

"Mama!" A triumphant voice accompanied the arrival of the small boy carrying a small blue Hippogriff.

"That will be perfect." Lily gave Harry a kiss on the head as she picked him up and plopped him on the edge of the bed next to Remus. "Now, stay here with Uncle Moony while I get a cup of tea for him."

She knew that Remus' outward anger and frustration would fade in the face of Harry's presence. She also knew it wasn't quite fair to put Harry in the middle of this situation. But, she reflected, the cute button nose and mop of black hair was exactly what was needed to remind Remus of what was important and why he needed to concentrate on getting better.

When she came back, Remus was back under the covers with Harry snuggled in the crook of his arm. The little boy was pointing to the Hippogriff and babbling earnestly about something. Remus looked up and she was pleased to see resignation in his eyes.

Lily handed the man the cup and placed a small Healer's kit at the bottom of the bed. "How is the cramp?"

"Moved to my foot," Remus said curtly. "I hate it when my toes cramp."

Lily winced in sympathy. "Nasty things, those are. I'd think you'd want to overdose on yarrow to keep them from happening."

Remus rolled his eyes and then sipped at his tea.

With a great deal of difficulty, Lily shooed Harry off to play so she could change the bandages on Remus' healing cuts and spread salve on the bruises. "You're healing well," she finally pronounced.

"You've done a very good job," Remus admitted, slightly grudgingly.

"I didn't know the cramping could be so awful," Lily blurted out. "Does this happen every time?"

Remus didn't answer right away, and she thought he wasn't going to. Finally, though, he sighed. "There have been times when it's been worse. The spasms kept me from going to classes for a day or two after the full moon—even more than the exhaustion and the actual wounds, at times." He handed her his empty tea cup, looking at her almost shyly from beneath his eyelashes. "Did you add something to this, though? I think it's working better than what we—I—have at home."

"I added a little of this and a little of that." She smiled, but prevented him from leaning back against the pillows with a firm, but gentle, touch on his shoulder. "Is there anything else I can get for you? Something else for cramping or pain?"

"I didn't want to be a burden to you," Remus said quietly.

Lily sighed. "You're not a burden to us. Gods, Remus! How often do we have to tell you that you're not just a friend—you're family?" She reached for his right hand and began to massage it gently but firmly with her small, but nimble, fingers.

He made a slight whimpering noise in his throat and his eyes closed almost involuntarily.

She took that moment to Summon a bottle from the Healer's kit. It floated near her left hand until she reached for it and thumbed the stopper from its mouth. A light, floral scent escaped, and Remus' eyes opened, his attention drawn immediately to the vial.

"How did you know?" he asked hoarsely.

Lily steeled herself for the answer and his response. "Sirius told me that lavender oil would help me relax when I was pregnant with Harry. I'd always wondered how he'd known that so matter-of-factly. I just made a guess that this was why."

He didn't say anything, but his eyes were still focussed on the bottle, as if it held more than just a soothing unction. Lily suspected that the scent contained memories, and was worried that it might be too much for the blue-eyed man.

Instead, he swallowed hard and said, "Lavender oil is very effective."

She reached over and tugged at the bottom of his T-shirt. "Come on, then, Unca Mooey. Let me get your back. I can see how you're all hunched over because it aches."

He sucked in a deep breath then released it very slowly. "All right." He smiled grimly. "But only because it hurts so bloody much."

She laughed softly and pushed the soft cotton up to Remus' shoulders while she shifted until she was behind him. His muscles were tightly strung across his bones and, as she ran her oiled hands down his spine, she wondered if she'd be able to loosen those rock-hard strands of sinew.

She began humming as her thumbs dug into the skin on either side of his spine, noting that the sharp definition of bone was not just because of the taut muscles. Her fingers seemed to catch on each rib as she smoothed her hands over to his sides. She didn't say anything yet. There would be time later to lecture him for not eating properly.

She felt the vibration rumble through his back a fraction of a second before she heard it.

"Are you _purring_?" she teased. "I thought you were a were_wolf_, not a were_cat._"

"Feels good," he admitted with a lopsided smile. He involuntarily straightened as she pressed the heels of her hands into his lower back. "Gods, Lily."

"Is that a good 'Gods, Lily' or a bad one?"

"Oh, a very, very good one."

She resumed her humming, and slowly she felt his muscles relax. Her own fingers were beginning to cramp when she finally pulled his shirt back down and then shimmied off the bed. "Lay back now and let Mother tuck you in."

He blinked sleepily and yawned while she plumped his pillows and tugged the blankets up to his chin. "Better now?" she asked.

"Much." He sighed with what she hoped was contentment.

She combed her fingers through his hair and he leaned into her touch with a soft whining noise. She continued the soft strokes, humming softly, until she heard his breathing deepen and even out.

With a self-satisfied smirk at her effectiveness, she left him sleeping peacefully and went to finish the cake.

* * *

"I help! I help!" Harry said, dragging a spoon he'd found on the counter through the frosting on the cake before Lily could stop him.

"Where did you—? Harry! No! James, come get your son out of my hair!"

James came into the kitchen to scoop his son into his arms. "Harry, I know that tone, and you should know that tone means trouble."

Lily glanced up at the clock. "Why don't the two of you check on Remus? He might—"

"I'm here, actually," Remus' voice preceded his pale and obviously shaky presence in the room.

"Unca Mooey!" Harry stretched his hands out toward Remus who touched the fingers lightly then ruffled the boy's hair.

"You'll make his hair look as bad as James'," Lily complained.

"Hey!"

Lily didn't bat an eyelash at her husband's exclamation. Instead, she asked, "What are you doing down here, anyhow? You should be in bed."

Remus leaned against one of the kitchen chairs. "I have to go home."

"You can't!" both Lily and James cried.

"I have to," Remus insisted mildly. He sat down heavily in the chair and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. "Even when I spend the full moons with the pack, I go home around this time. I don't want to do anything blatantly different than usual that would make anyone wonder where I've been." He paused to consider his words and then chuckled bitterly. "Well, make them wonder any more than what they already do."

Lily chewed at her lip. "Remus, you are in no shape to go home."

"I appreciate your concern, but I've been worse. Believe me."

She glanced at her husband for confirmation, which he did in the form of a slight nod. But James then added softly, "You usually had Sirius waiting for you at home, though."

Remus winced. "Bloody hell, James."

"You know what I mean, Moony. I don't know if it's a good idea that you go back to an empty flat."

Lily shot a look of disgust at her husband for his lack of tact. "Remus—"

"The worst of it is over, honestly," Remus said. "I'm mostly tired now. The tea and the lavender oil worked wonderfully. I'll be fine."

* * *

There was nothing they could do to stop him, they knew. When Remus finally Apparated to his flat, he carried a small bag of food charmed to keep warm and some more of Lily's soothing tea in a thermos. The rucksack he'd taken with him on his Order mission was slung over his shoulder, having been rescued from the cottage by James.

He staggered and fell to one knee, unable to keep his balance after appearing so suddenly, but stayed there, nostrils flaring in alarm. There was a fleeting scent, some vague trace of something... not... quite... right...

He left the bags and thermos on the floor and eased his wand out of his pocket, his pain and exhaustion shoved aside with the instinctive need to stay alive. He shifted, rising to a half-crouch, listening intently. There was no rustling of cloth, no random shuffling, no erratic or shallow breathing. Remus cast a charm to reveal any human presence and was only partly relieved when it returned to him with negative results.

He then checked his wards to see if they had been breached. The red threads across his windows and doors seemed firm enough at first glance, but, as he scrutinised them closely, he could see a distinct softening of colours in the wards over the front door. That meant the wards had been lowered and the intruder had attempted to raise them the way Remus had originally—but hadn't used the same procedure as Remus, so that the result wasn't quite as intense or effective.

What could they have been looking for? Remus cast a tracking charm and followed the glowing trails through the flat, making mental notes of where the person had gone. Whoever it was must have known there was a lot of time to look around, because they'd walked through nearly every inch of the flat.

As he walked into the bedroom he'd shared with Sirius, he saw a glimmer of light out of the corner of his eye and something tingled on the back of his neck.

_What the hell?_

His fingers could feel nothing out of place except a plethora of goose bumps. His mind kept replaying the white flash. The only things he knew that flared and faded so quickly were traps of one kind or another.

_Stupid of me not to expect it, but what kind of trap is it?_

Obviously, it wasn't something meant to kill him directly. Whoever it was wanted him alive. But why the bedroom doorway?

_Because that's where I go first after the full moon. I always go to bed as soon as I come home._

They knew his routine; that knowledge made his heart shudder to a stop.

They knew his routine, knew that he would come home and go straight to bed. So, what kind of spell would they place on the doorway...?

_It didn't kill me or incapacitate me. They'd know I'd be weak. So why would they put a trap on the doorway? _

Alarm bells went off in his head at the same time that he heard the pop of Apparition in the front room.

_To let them know I'm home._

Thinking he wasn't strong enough to fight at that moment, he spun around, picturing the relative safety of the park not far from Order headquarters. Nothing happened, however.

_Bloody Anti-Disapparition spells!_

They were prepared, then.

The only thing that could save him was the fact that, thanks to the Potters' ministrations, he was more aware and in better physical condition than he usually was when he came home after a full moon... but the Death Eaters didn't know that.

Footsteps were quietly creeping toward the bedroom—two distinctive sets. One was heavy-footed, the other lighter on his toes. Remus could imagine them right on the other side of the wall and he pressed himself in the corner next to the wardrobe and Disillusioned himself, waiting for the right moment to strike.

A beam of red light flashed through the doorway and struck the bed. A moment later, the two masked men darted into the room with wands drawn.

"Where is he?" one of the men whispered harshly.

The other man shot another Stunner under the bed. "Well, he's not there. Come on out, Lupin! We know you're here somewhere!" He began to draw a looping figure in the air—something that usually accompanied a Revealing spell— and Remus realised he had no choice: this was the moment to act.

He thanked Alastor Moody for the hours of drilling in wandless and nonverbal spells as he wordlessly cast a Full Body-Bind at the Death Eater who was in the midst of casting the charm. The man fell heavily to the floor as the other man turned to see where the spell had come from. A Stunner took care of him, sending him slumping to the floor, and Remus sagged against the wall in relief.

He knew he couldn't rest there for long, though. Obviously, the Death Eaters had been sent for him, and if they didn't return soon, others might come to find out why.

"Bloody Death Eaters," he muttered. And with those three words, fury erupted within him.

The Death Eaters had taken so much from so many and did so mercilessly, without compassion. They killed children, women, Muggles, and wizards. They killed people for what they were—half-blooded or open-minded—and for the choices they made—their spouse and their jobs. Love was no reason for a marriage; only purity of blood should be considered, they believed. No one dared to deny the Death Eaters whatever they demanded lest a family member become a victim.

And they had made this personal for Remus. People whom Remus had worked with and admired had fallen to the Death Eaters' spells: the Prewetts, Marlene MacKinnon and her entire family, Benjy Fenwick... And even more importantly, they had taken Sirius away from Remus. The laughter, the joy, the love was gone from Remus' life because Voldemort believed in a bloody prophecy about a baby—the happiest, most loved baby that Remus had ever known. And now they had intruded on Remus' home and his privacy.

_Nothing is sacred to them: privacy, honour, love..._

He could feel the wolf just below the surface of his consciousness. It was sharp-toothed and angry, wanting to attack, wanting blood, and Remus could feel his skin prickle with lupine awareness.

_I could kill them then Vanish their bodies. No one would know. It would be two less Death Eaters that we have to face in battle. _He straightened and stepped toward the bespelled men. _They killed Sirius. They deserve to die. They deserve whatever I do to them!_

His knees, shaky from exhaustion and stress, suddenly gave out with his next step and he fell to his knees. The impact made him gasp and the blood-red hatred that was washing over his thoughts and feelings lessened enough to make him pause.

_What... am I... doing?_

He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

_I can't do this. I can't kill them like this. I won't be like the Death Eaters, killing them when they're helpless in my custody._

He staggered to his feet, clenching his jaw tightly as if to hold back the furious demand for revenge that he knew the wolf inside of him would insist upon. He bound and gagged both men, then took their wands and masks while considering his next move. He knew he should contact Dumbledore immediately, but he couldn't help but wonder if either of the two men would know who the spy in the Order was. If they wouldn't tell him outright, maybe they'd give him a clue, and he could then begin to exact his retribution for Sirius' death. He rather doubted they would know anything, because he didn't recognise either one of the men as being a high-level Death Eater, but it wouldn't hurt to try.

Judging by the sudden and almost convulsive twitching, the Body-Bind was starting to wear off, and Remus knelt beside the trussed-up Death Eater and pulled the gag away from his mouth. "Why are you here for me?"

"Monster," the man spat. He looked young and familiar, and even though he was fair-haired, Remus was reminded of Regulus Black. Could this young man be in the same situation: newly inducted into the Death Eaters and unknowing of how deeply Voldemort's evil truly ran?

"Well, that's friendly," Remus snapped. "You've invaded my flat, tried to Stun me, and I'm the monster?"

"Fucking werewolf. Should have a silver bullet in your head."

"Why is Voldemort interested in me?"

"He's not interested in you. You're nothing," the young man sneered. "He's interested in the Potters."

"And he thinks I'm going to somehow help him get to them? I'm not their Secret Keeper." _At least, not voluntarily..._

"He knows you can lead him to their Secret Keeper."

"I can't lead anyone to a Secret Keeper if I don't know who it is."

"Liar. You know it's Black."

Remus shrugged. "Might be, might not. Even if it was, it seems to me that Voldemort would know where Sirius is more than I would."

"He said you'd say you didn't know where Black was."

Remus found himself confused. The Death Eaters had taken Sirius because they had known Sirius was the Potters' Secret Keeper. If they'd killed him, how could Remus lead Voldemort to Sirius? Why was this man talking about Sirius as if he were still alive? It made no sense. "I'd rather die than betray my friends."

"Die like the dog you are," the young man snarled. "And a fucking queer to boot." A maniacal gleam appeared in his light eyes. "A bloody faggot werewolf. Sirius Black's whore."

Remus' eyebrows lowered. The fact that he was a werewolf could probably easily be discovered by one of Voldemort's spies, especially if one of them worked in the Werewolf Registry Department. The fact that he and Sirius were lovers, however, was something that they'd tried to hide as much as possible. There were people in the Order who hadn't been certain about it until Sirius had died.

The young man laughed cruelly, seeing Remus' perplexity. "Didn't think we'd know that, did you? Well, there are a lot of secrets that we know about you, you filthy animal!"

Sudden realisation flooded through Remus' befuddled brain: the spy in the Order knew that he and Sirius had a relationship. _That narrows the list of suspects considerably..._

Suddenly, a crack of Apparition resounded through the flat.

"Shit!" Remus whispered, immediately pushing the gag back into the younger man's mouth.

He'd forgotten that these Death Eaters would probably be followed by others. _Idiot! _He reached down and hauled the young Death Eater to his feet, hoping that the Anti-Disapparition wards were still down.

_Please, oh please, oh please..._

Keeping one arm firmly around the bound Death Eater, he spun around, picturing the Shrieking Shack in his mind. He felt the familiar squeeze of Apparition and felt relief flood through his body. He was going to get out of this alive, yet—and maybe even with some answers.

* * *

When Remus and the young Death Eater Apparated into the Shrieking Shack, Remus lost his balance and fell heavily on the dust-covered wooden floor. He tried to twist to the side to keep himself from falling on his captive, but wasn't completely successful. Still, he hadn't thought he'd hurt the boy so much that the boy should be twisting and screaming incoherently through the gag beneath him.

He pushed himself away and stood up, watching the writhing young man in horrified fascination. It seemed like he was trying to pull his left arm out of the ropes that bound him.

_Did he break his arm when I fell on him? _Bones could be snapped in the strangest of ways...

He managed to pull the gag out of the boy's mouth and tried to ask him if he was hurt, but was unsuccessful in getting the boy's attention, much less in getting a response. The screaming struggle continued.

Gnawing at his lip with uncertainty, Remus severed the ropes around the boy's left arm and pushed the black sleeve up to the elbow. A tattoo of Voldemort's Dark Mark—a skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth—was inscribed on the boy's forearm, but it was pulsing with redness and heat.

"Master!" the kid screamed, twisting in Remus' grasp.

A Cooling charm had no effect upon the tattoo; in fact, it only seemed to make it worse.

_What _is _that thing? What is its purpose?_

He had never seen anything like this; he didn't know how to ease the kid's pain or what it could mean. Was this some way Voldemort could track or control his Death Eaters? Were Death Eaters about to descend upon them right now?

"Shit," he whispered.

The kid suddenly collapsed, panting harshly, but mercifully silent.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked tentatively.

"The Dark Lord," the young Death Eater mumbled.

Remus grabbed him and pulled him up until they were nose-to-nose. "Is Voldemort coming here?"

The kid laughed. "If the Dark Lord was coming, he'd be here already."

_That's probably true._

What was also true was that the past few minutes had proven to Remus that he wasn't quite ready to deal with the Death Eater on his own. As badly as he wanted to find out about Sirius, he knew he wasn't at his best—and he might very well be in over his head.

With a sigh of resignation, he sent his Patronus for help.

* * *

Alastor Moody took one look at the young man and his eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Barty Crouch, Jr!"

Albus Dumbledore stroked his beard with one hand and smiled sadly. "Bartemius, this is a surprise."

Remus instantly recognised the name and was surprised that he hadn't recognised the kid, but Barty Crouch had been three or four years behind him at Hogwarts and had been in Slytherin, and they hadn't interacted much. He'd only known Barty by sight—and by his parentage. Barty Crouch had a father who worked at the Ministry who was known for his very aggressive stance against Death Eaters. To discover that his son was a Death Eater would be a crushing blow.

Remus quickly told the two older men how he'd captured the boy and showed them the boy's tattoo.

"No doubt about it, then," Moody said, shaking his head. "It's Azkaban for you, Barty-boy."

"You can't charge me with anything," the boy said sneeringly. "You don't know what I have or haven't done."

"We don't need to charge you with anything specific," the Auror contradicted him. "In these times, all an Auror needs to do is find that tattoo. It's practically an admission of murder, treason, and collusion."

Barty defiantly started to say, "My father—"

"Your father approved the use of the Unforgivables on Death Eaters, which means I can kill you where you sit and there'd be nothing for him to do. He can't afford to let you go after being so hard on the others we've caught. He'll lose his place at the Ministry for sure."

The boy started to look a little frightened. "He wouldn't send me to Azkaban. He wouldn't."

Moody shrugged. "Think what you'd like, but we both know him. He'd rather disown you and give you to the Dementors than grant a Death Eater mercy." Then, while Barty's jaw was slack with shock, Moody tipped a few drops of Veritaserum into the boy's mouth.

After that, the boy's manner swung between whiny and subservient and insolent and bold. He was obviously fearful that his father would disown him, and his mother would have nothing more to do with him. However, there were times when he would break out into vicious swearing and avowals that the Dark Lord would break them all, and there'd be nothing they could do.

Neither Moody nor Dumbledore seemed overly surprised at the things that Barty Crouch told them. Remus, however, felt more and more despairing at the number of Ministry departments that had been infiltrated and the sheer numbers of families who were, by belief or by blackmail, now aligned with Voldemort. He couldn't see how the Order could possibly overcome the obstacles that Barty was describing to the two older men.

Slowly, however, the questions spiralled closer to who the spy in the Order was.

"Why did you go to Remus Lupin's flat?"Dumbledore asked.

"The Dark Lord needs the Potters, doesn't he?" Barty sneered. "Black was of no use..."

"But why Lupin?" Moody interrupted.

The boy's light eyes focussed on Remus' and he smiled. "The Dark Lord has ways to get information out of people. Catch the bitch and the dog will come sniffing around..."

Remus went very, very still. '_Dog'. Does he know about Sirius' Animagus form? How does he know? Would Sirius have told...?_

But while those frantic thoughts were going through his mind, Barty Crouch, Jr. was continuing. "...Black disappeared, he thought Lupin would know where Black is."

Moody and Dumbledore exchanged sidelong glances and Remus could feel their tension. "Did Voldemort forget where he put Black's body, then?" the Auror finally asked.

The boy gave a high-pitched giggle, but said nothing else.

"Bartemius," Dumbledore said slowly, thoughtfully, "is Sirius Black still _alive_?"

"Wouldn't make sense to worry about a _dead_ body, would it?" Barty shot back.

Only someone who knew Dumbledore and Moody well could have interpreted their stony-eyed silence as shock. It was a long moment, though, before complete comprehension _slammed_ into Remus.

_Sirius is alive!_

His head suddenly felt too light for his body, and darkness swirled threateningly in his sight. He instinctively reached out for the nearest solid object to steady himself.

"Lupin?" he heard Moody's whisper, but he couldn't find the breath to reply.

_He is alive. Somewhere. He's _alive

"Lupin, if you don't mind..."

He felt fingers wrap themselves around his wrist and he looked down. He'd grabbed Moody's arm to hold himself up, and considering his white knuckles, he wouldn't be surprised to know the older man's arm was bruised from his grip.

"Sorry," he muttered, releasing the Auror.

"Remus, are you alright?" Dumbledore inquired softly.

"Yes," Remus said curtly, his respiration returning to normal. His hand went to his chest, if only to see if his heart was still beating. "Where does Voldemort think Sirius is?" he asked the Death Eater.

"That's just the question, isn't it?" Barty's head jerked to the side to focus on him. "Used Legilimancy on everyone and can't figure out how Black escaped."

"Fuck!" Remus whispered. _Sirius is alive! But where is he?_

"Remus," Dumbledore put a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Why don't you go to my office and wait for me?"

"No. I want to hear the rest of this." _Why didn't he come home to me?_

"Maybe it would be better if—"

"Was Sirius injured?"

The boy's lip curled. "'Course he was hurt. Can't go through hours of torture by the Dark Lord and Bellatrix and not be hurt, could you? And Snape's got no reason to like Black, or so he says."

_Bloody hell. Bellatrix, Snape, Voldemort... And gods only knows who else. Sirius _should_ be dead._

"Who does Voldemort think helped Sirius escape?" Dumbledore asked.

"The Dark Lord keeps his thoughts to himself," Barty said almost proudly. "Not about to tell us what he's thinking."

"Why?" Remus didn't know exactly why that question burst from him as quickly as it did. "If he's as bloody brilliant as he thinks he is, why doesn't he tell you all what he's thinking?"

Obviously stung, the boy retorted, "He doesn't owe us any explanations. He's the Dark Lord. He does things in his own time. He'll find out who it was."

"He's killed people for less," Remus came back with. "Why doesn't he just take down who he thinks the traitor is?"

"He'll figure out who the rat is," Barty said confidently. "And he'll die."

"Remus—" Dumbledore said, his grip tightening. "Please—"

_'Rat'. Oh, gods. What about Peter? If they couldn't get me, would they go after Peter? I have to warn him..._

"All right," he whispered. "I'm leaving."

"You're welcome to stay at Hogwarts tonight. I think your home has been compromised," the Headmaster said quietly so that Barty couldn't hear.

"I have to check on Peter first."

Dumbledore pursed his lips for a moment, before giving a curt nod. "That might be advisable. If there is any sign of trouble, though, please come back here immediately."

Remus assented, and then Apparated to an alley about two blocks away from Peter's flat. He needed just a few minutes to gather his thoughts and consider what he'd learned.

_Sirius is alive. He's alive. There's no good reason why he's alive, but someone saved him. Someone... Dumbledore must have a man inside the Death Eaters. He's made comments at times, said things that now, looking back, make me realise he could have only heard those things from someone who was inside the Death Eaters. He didn't know Sirius was alive, though, either. Didn't his spy tell him? _

He reached the building where Peter's flat was and started up the stairs, his fingers wrapped tightly around his wand. He was pleased to see that the wards that he'd helped Peter build seemed as bright as they were when they'd first put them up. He breathed a sigh of relief when Peter's voice asked, "Who's there?" after he'd knocked.

"It's me, Peter."

"Prove it."

"For Christmas in our fourth year at Hogwarts, you gave me a scarf your mum had knitted out of scarlet and gold yarn, but she'd run out of gold yarn halfway through, so she had to use a gods-awful shade of yellow—"

Peter was chuckling when he opened the door and allowed Remus to squeeze through. "I forgot about that."

"I still have it," Remus said with a smile. "How are you, Peter? Are you all right?"

"Fine, fine. Why?"

"Death Eaters came to my place this afternoon. I was worried that they might have come here."

"Death Eaters? Are _you_ all right? Gods, Remus!" Peter's eyes widened.

"I got out of it without a scratch, though I'm not quite sure how. Captured one of them, actually. You'll never believe it, Peter. Remember Barty Crouch?"

"The Ministry—"

"No, no. His son. The one that was behind us by three or four years. I didn't recognise him until Moody did."

"Moody?"

Remus plopped down on Peter's couch, suddenly feeling weariness seeping into every one of his bones. "He and Dumbledore were questioning him. Gods, the things I've learned tonight. It's grim, Peter. Death Eaters all over the damned place..." He shook his head and yawned. "Look, I hate to do this, but can I have a cup of tea? I'm right knackered, and my thoughts are all over the place... If I can have a few minutes to put it all together..."

Peter gave him an odd look then smiled almost nervously. "Certainly. Just sit and relax. I'll be right back."

As tired as Remus was, however, his nerves wouldn't let him just sit still. He wished desperately for a cigarette, if only to give his hands something to do, but realised his last pack was in his ancient rucksack that he'd left at his flat. Restlessly, he began pacing through Peter's tiny sitting room. _Might as well check the wards on his windows..._

The windows in the sitting room were protected just as strongly as ever, and Remus moved on into Peter's bedroom, which was at the very front of the flat. The red lines webbed across the windows, untouched and faintly buzzing with power, and Remus grunted in satisfaction as he turned to walk back out. In his exhaustion and the darkness, however, he misjudged how close the bed was and bumped into it. His foot connected with something on the floor, nudging it slightly from its hiding place. Remus couldn't help but be amused.

_Probably his collection of porn._

He reached down for what he assumed was a magazine, but was surprised to realize that the item had a hard cover.

_A book? _

His lips curled into a smile, wondering what kind of book would be hidden under Peter's bed.

_Something that James and Sirius would give him grief about, no doubt._

Surprisingly, though, a quick _Lumos_ revealed a book as familiar to Remus as the back of his hand. Baffled, he flipped open the cover to find his name in his handwriting on the inside cover. He didn't remember Peter asking to borrow the book. Had he asked Sirius? No, Sirius wouldn't have just given Peter what they all knew was one of Remus' favourite books without telling him about it.

He thumbed through the pages, but there was nothing to help solve the mystery of why the book was there in the first place, much less hidden under the bed.

_What else does Peter have hidden under there? _

He should have felt like he was trespassing, he thought later, but there'd been very few boundaries between them in their dormitory. They'd always freely rummaged through each other's things, borrowing and taking sometimes without asking—just because that's what they did. So, Remus didn't feel anything but curiosity when he knelt and lifted the bottom of the bedspread.

Sometimes metallic glittered in the soft light and he didn't need to pull it out to see that it was a picture frame. _A girlfriend that he doesn't want us to know about? It would certainly explain his frequent absences as of late._

He pulled it out and flipped it over, a smile spreading tiredly across his face. James and Sirius might not be here, but he would be sure to…

His breath caught in his throat and his heart shuddered to a brief stop.

In their seventh year of school, James had brought his camera to school and taken a photograph that he'd presented to Remus and Sirius when they'd moved into their flat together. It showed Remus lying in bed, recovering from a full moon-induced headache. Sirius, in Padfoot form, had jumped up on the bed and had plopped down beside him, resting his black, fuzzy dog head on Remus' chest. Remus, not realising James had the camera, had wrapped his arms around the dog's neck and buried his nose in the black fur. It was at that moment that James had said his name and he'd looked over just as James snapped the shutter.

He'd had it on his desk. Always. It made him smile, even at the worst of times. There hadn't been another print of it because—well, who else would want it? And yet, that photo was hidden beneath Peter's bed, along with one of Remus' favourite books.

Mechanically, he replaced the book and photo. They were his, but he wanted to know why they were here in such an unusual place. His tired and overworked brain was trying to put things together, but the things he was starting to think... They didn't make sense. Or, they made sense, but he didn't want to believe them.

He returned to the sitting room, just as Peter emerged from the kitchen with a cup of tea. "Here you go, Moony." He stopped, noting Remus' position in the room, and Remus saw the suspicion bloom in his friend's eyes. "Everything all right?"

"I was just checking on your wards," Remus said, wondering if his voice sounded as strained as he thought it did—and if Peter could believe it was only because Remus was still suffering the after-effects of the full moon. He didn't give Peter time to consider it. He gave his friend a smile and sat back down on the couch and took the cup that Peter hesitantly handed to him. "Gods, you have no idea how much I need this," Remus commented. Steam lazily curled from the surface and teased Remus' nose.

"I put two sugars in it. That's right, isn't it?" Peter asked anxiously.

"Perfect," Remus said, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent deeply. _It's wrong. _He could smell it, something not quite right with the tea, and it wasn't that the milk was curdled or the London water had tainted the taste. No, this was something else, something almost medicinal... _But is it in my imagination? Am I looking for conspiracies where there are none?_

"What did Barty Crouch say?" Peter enquired. Remus could hear the springs of the overstuffed armchair creak as the Animagus sat down.

Remus put the tea up to his lips and then pulled it away, pretending to wince from the heat of it. "I think Voldemort has infiltrated every single department of the Ministry. We know he's killed several people in Muggle Relations, and people are afraid to take the positions because they're afraid the same thing will happen to them. But, gods, the Department of Magical Creatures is crawling with Death Eaters; even the Aurors... I don't know how we're supposed to fight, Peter, when it seems like we're outnumbered fifty to one."

"I know," Peter mumbled, looking down at his clasped hands. Remus noticed that his friend's knuckles were white. "I thought it was bad; I didn't realise it was quite so bad, though."

Remus set the cup down on the side table and leaned back tiredly, watching Peter from beneath half-closed eyes. "It was easier to fight when I had Sirius. Now, I wonder what I'm fighting for."

Peter fidgeted for a moment and then asked, "Do you worry, Remus, that they came after you because they think you're the new Secret Keeper?"

Remus shrugged. "They can think what they'd like, but Sirius never told me a thing."

"So, you don't know where James and Lily are?"

"Wormtail, how can I possibly know where they are if Sirius never told me?" Remus allowed a hint of irritation to creep into his voice.

"You mentioned he joked about writing it down..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Peter, Sirius was always saying daft things like that. No one could possibly think he was serious." He opened his eyes fully and glared at Peter.

"But, say that he was..."

"If he was, I couldn't begin to know where he put such a thing."

"Well, maybe he put it in one of your books..."

"I've got a couple of hundred books. If he decided to put it in one of them, it would take me hours to figure out which one."

"One of your favourites, maybe."

Remus regarded Peter steadily for a moment before saying, "Peter, why are you so concerned about this? You make it sound like you want me to know where James and Lily are."

"Well," the other man said uncertainly, "it would be good if someone knows where they are in case they need something."

"If they need something, they can come to us."

Peter stood up and walked over to the window. "Don't forget your tea, Moony."

"Right," Remus said. He picked up the tea and lifted it again to his lips, but didn't swallow any. "Peter, aren't you worried that they might come after you?"

"Me?" Peter sounded shocked that he'd asked. "Why would they come after me? You're the one that is, uh, closest to Sirius."

"But they shouldn't know that," Remus said softly. "Sirius and I have tried very hard to keep that from everyone who hasn't needed to know for this very purpose."

Peter took a long time looking out the window. When he came back, he was rubbing his left forearm. "I suppose, Moony, but after Sirius disappeared, it was rather obvious that you and he were more than just friends."

"Obvious to whom?" Remus asked. "To Order members, yes. But we've not had any Order missions that any Death Eaters would have noticed me acting strangely."

"Weren't you just out on a mission?"

Remus felt his muscles tighten. "When?"

"Over the full moon." Peter squirmed slightly. "I went over to your flat to see if you needed company and you weren't there."

Remus suddenly thought of the tracks that his spell had revealed. The tracks had been over at his desk, where the photo had been—and by his bookshelves. "I was trying to find a safe place to change," he said with a shrug. He laughed uneasily. "Ended up in the Shrieking Shack after all."

"I thought you said you'd never go back there."

"Wasn't my first choice," Remus admitted. Again, Peter touched his arm, and Remus saw his friend's grimace. "Are you all right, Wormtail?"

"Fine," Peter said harshly. "How's the tea?"

The image of the Dark Mark on Barty Crouch's forearm was foremost in Remus' mind, and he was putting things together. The fact that Voldemort now knew of his and Sirius' relationship; Barty's comments: "He'll figure out who the rat is," when they'd been talking about traitors: had that been purely coincidental? Barty had also made a comment about a dog. And then there was the photo and the book. Why would Peter need those? _"...Maybe he put it in one of your books... One of your favourites..."_ The picture of Remus... and Sirius' Animagus form...

"You know, Peter, my stomach is a bit queasy. I appreciate it and all, but I think I'm going to head home."

"You're going back to your flat?"

"It's my home, Peter," Remus said in admonishment. "My clothes and things are there. Where else am I supposed to go?"

"You could stay here," Peter offered, almost eagerly.

"No, it's fine." Remus sighed. "If they are after me, it wouldn't be fair to involve you."

Peter nodded. His fingers twitched close to his side where his wand was and he deliberately moved his hand to rest on the back of the chair when he saw that Remus had noticed.

"Be careful, Remus, all right?"

Remus nodded and started toward the front door. He paused at the bedroom door, his heart and mind torn as to what he should do. After a moment, he went into the bedroom, took his things from under the bed and stepped back out to face Peter. "I'm taking these with me," he said softly, shrinking them and tucking them securely into his pocket. "Is there anything you want to tell me, Peter?"

He recognised the expression on Peter's face. The rat Animagus was wondering what he should do, what his options were for getting out of a sticky situation. "Remus..."

Slowly, Remus raised his wand so that it was aimed right between Peter's eyes. "You're one of them, aren't you?"

"Remus, it's not like that."

"It's not like _what_, exactly?"

"I'm not one of them, really—"

And then the pops of Apparition came from Peter's living room.

"I'm sorry, Remus," Peter whispered, his wand coming up.

Remus was faster. He grabbed Peter's arm and twisted it until Peter was shielding him from whatever was going to be coming from the living room, and then backed into the bedroom. Once he and Peter were inside the door, he slammed the door shut with a flick of his wand.

"You bloody, traitorous _rat_," Remus growled, as he spun himself and Peter around and Apparated away just as a spell crashed through the bedroom door.

* * *

They crashed to the floor of the Shrieking Shack, ending their awkward roll at Alastor Moody's feet.

"Lupin? Pettigrew?"

"Fucking Death Eater!" Remus roared, leaping to his feet and jerking Peter up with him.

"Remus!" Dumbledore reached out to grab the enraged man's arm. "What's happened?"

"He's the spy! Fucking _rat_!" And then he could feel the tingle of magic that told him what was going to happen. "Stop him! Stun him!"

Moody didn't hesitate. His Stunner hit Peter squarely in the back, and the Animagus fell to the floor.

Remus staggered backwards until his back hit the wall. Then he slumped down bonelessly, his eyes on the unconscious man.

Barty Crouch began to chuckle madly.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Moody snapped, hitting the man with a _Silencio._

"Check his arm," Remus said, nodding wearily to Peter. "I'd be willing to bet he's got a Dark Mark."

Albus Dumbledore stared at Remus for a long moment before pushing up Peter's sleeve. The skull and snake glowed faintly against the pale skin.

"He told Voldemort everything," Remus said softly. "He told him about Sirius and me. He told him about Padfoot and Wormtail..."

"I thought he _was_ Wormtail?" Moody asked, obviously confused. "How could—?"

"It was for me." Remus' voice dropped to a whisper. He couldn't look up at Dumbledore, the man who had allowed him to attend Hogwarts, who had given him an education and a purpose. He'd betrayed that trust by encouraging his friends to become Animagi, and then had kept their secret. Would Dumbledore ever trust him again?

"Albus, take Lupin and Pettigrew up to the school. I think we've got everything we need from this—" Moody disdainfully motioned toward Barty Crouch. "I'll take him back to the Ministry. I'll be along as soon as I can to talk to Pettigrew."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very good. Remus, is there anything I should know about Peter that could make it difficult for us to keep him?"

Remus closed his eyes so he couldn't see the astonishment—or the disappointment—that might show in the Headmaster's bright blue eyes. "Wrap him in an Anti-Shape Shifting Spell. He's an Animagus."

There was a heavy silence in the room and then Moody sighed. "Well, this is going to be some bloody story."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Disclaimers, etc. in previous chapters. All hail remuslives23, who helped me with this. Also, if you go to this story on my livejournal, (under 'dogsunderfoot'), you'll see beautiful artwork-5 beautiful paintings-done for this story by epithalanium002! (The picture of Remus and toddler Harry is positively enchanting!)**

* * *

Things did not quite turn out the way that either Remus or Albus Dumbledore had expected. Upon passing through the oaken front doors of Hogwarts, Remus was reminded of happier times, when he believed he had three strong friends that would have done anything for him. The memories only served to mark the depths and lengths of Peter's betrayal, making Remus stumble and fall to his knees. "Why, Peter?" he whispered. "Why would you do this?"

"Remus?"

It was easier to collapse onto the floor than face Dumbledore's sympathetic gaze. Exhaustion and grief took over, pulling him down into a comforting darkness.

* * *

He heard the humming and thought it sounded familiar. It was soothing and made him think of something relaxing—and of lavender oil. A moment later, he realised something warm and solid was snuggled against him. It was soft and comforting and... slightly wet?

He pried one eye open and looked down. A small boy was curled beside him on the bed, drooling around the fist that was he'd been chewing on in his sleep. When Remus looked past the sleeping toddler, he could see Lily sitting in a chair, gazing thoughtfully out of the window, and twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

"Lily?" His voice was hoarse and barely even audible, but she heard him and snapped her head around to look at him.

"Remus!" She leaned forward and grabbed his hand, obviously just restraining herself from throwing her arms around him and waking Harry. There were faint lines of stress shadowing her forehead and eyes. "Oh, gods, Remus, we were so worried!"

He blinked rapidly. "What...?" And then everything crashed down around him. His arm tightened involuntarily around Harry who muttered a complaint but shifted closer to Remus anyhow. "Where's James?"

"He's at the Ministry with the Headmaster, registering himself as an Animagus." She smiled ruefully. "Peter's capture has stirred up issues we never quite imagined."

Dread and anger ignited in Remus' chest. "Where is The Rat?"

"He's at the Ministry, too."

Remus wriggled into a sitting position, trying not to disturb Harry as he did. He was surprised at how good he felt, considering how tired and sore he'd been when he'd been put to bed only half-conscious. He didn't even remember putting on the pyjamas that he was now wearing.

"They didn't wait for me? They didn't need me to—?

"Your turn will be coming," Lily assured him, "but they couldn't wait any longer." She hesitated and then said, "You've been sleeping for two days."

"Two days?" Harry stirred and Remus lowered his voice slightly. "Lily, I couldn't—It can't have been two days!"

"You were so tired. The day after the full moon, and everything that happened after you left our home... You were exhausted, love."

"But... two days!" He started to push back the covers so he could get up, but Lily held out a hand to stop him.

"No, don't. You need to get your strength back."

Remus glared at her and slid one leg over the side of the bed. "I've been here too long. Sirius—"

She put a restraining hand on his leg. "We still don't know where he is, Remus."

Remus halted, grief carving out the pit in his stomach once again.

"There's nothing you can do right now," Lily said softly. Her green eyes filled with tears. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am about that."

He looked away from her, not wanting to see her tears because he was afraid he might succumb to a few of his own. He knew she was right, but the knowledge didn't make it any better. "I feel so helpless," he whispered. "Sirius is alive and I don't know where."

"Dumbledore is waiting to hear from his contact with the Death Eaters. He's had to tell James several times to be patient and wait."

Harry, missing Remus' warm presence, squirmed and whimpered. Both young adults reached over to touch the little boy reassuringly. As their hands brushed, Lily impulsively wrapped one arm around Remus' neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. "You've been so brave, Remus. We're so very proud of you."

"I haven't done anything—"

She made a sound that was meant to shut him up and negate his comment. He allowed himself to be silenced and focussed on the toddler who was coming fully awake, despite their efforts to soothe him back into sleep.

"Unca Mooey!" Chubby arms reached for him and he gathered Harry into his arms.

"James told him he had to protect you while you slept," Lily said, smiling.

"Yes, I can see where his drooling might save me from a Death Eater attack," Remus said wryly, examining the wet patch on his borrowed pyjama top.

She stood up abruptly and turned toward a small table in the corner of the room. "The house-elves have been bringing your meals up for you and leaving them, just in case you'd wake up. They just brought your lunch a small while ago."

He tried to ask questions while he ate, but Lily wouldn't answer any of them. By the shadows beneath her eyes, he suspected there were some unpleasant surprises awaiting him once his lunch was finished, though. When Harry had eaten the last crumb of the last piece of toast, Remus wasted no time in saying, "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"What have I missed?"

She sighed. "You wouldn't rather wait until James or Dumbledore are here?"

"No. Start with—The Rat."

Lily shrugged. "You were right. He's been the spy in the Order. He admitted everything to Moody and Dumbledore yesterday morning—with a little help from Veritaserum. Then they summoned us to come here and James verified the bit about becoming Animagi."

"Are we in trouble for that?"

"Well, you certainly aren't," Lily said. "You aren't an unregistered Animagus."

"But I—"

"They're willing to overlook James' and Sirius'—illegality—if they both contribute to some Ministry fund or another. Obviously, they have to register, which explains James' presence at the Ministry at this moment."

While she was talking, she was setting out some blocks for Harry to play with on the floor. The little boy inspected each block carefully before starting to stack them haphazardly. Remus lowered himself to the floor and began helping by firming up the foundations.

"And The Rat?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the brightly painted blocks.

"He'll be taken before the Wizengamot in a day or two, depending on how long it takes for them to get your side of the story." Lily paused a moment and then added, "They think he might be sentenced to Azkaban for ten years."

"Ten years?" Remus had to struggle to think impartially, to decide whether Peter's crimes would dictate ten years in Azkaban. i_Only/i _ten years. He had to admit he didn't think Peter was guilty of actual murder—though he, no doubt, had given information that had resulted in the deaths of several people. Remus closed his eyes, wondering how many of the Order's losses had been because of Peter.

_And if we don't find Sirius..._

He refused to think of it.

Harry shoved the block fortress over with a gleeful squeal. He babbled something about the blocks falling down and then, if the tone of his voice was any indication, ordered Remus to rebuild the structure.

"Moody says that Barty Crouch and Peter have both given names of people who the Ministry didn't know were Death Eaters. He said that it's surprising how much the two of them know, considering they're not very high up in the Death Eater ranks," Lily continued as Remus placed an arch on the tops of two columnar pieces, to Harry's delight.

Remus pondered Lily's words for a moment and then chuckled mirthlessly. "Peter was always observant. He would notice things about people and surprise us later with what he'd sussed out. He realised there was something going on between Sirius and me before James did."

Lily paused to pull a block out of Harry's mouth. "Barty Crouch—the father—is said to be taking all this quite badly. His wife has supposedly taken to her bed because of the stress. Mrs Pettigrew is maintaining that Peter's innocent and Sirius dragged him into Dark magic."

"No, she wouldn't believe The Rat would be capable of anything wrong," Remus reflected, thinking of comments that the woman had made the few times Remus had actually spent time with her. "She always thought James and Sirius were bad influences. She didn't know what to make of me, but I think she suspected I was a werewolf. She was always staring at my scars and told Peter that I was too quiet not to have very Dark secrets."

"She really won't like you now that it's well known that you captured both of them."

Remus felt every muscle in his body tighten and looked up at the young woman. "Lily, please tell me that's not true."

She shook her head. "We knew you wouldn't like it, but it couldn't be helped. Moody has tried to keep you out of it as much as possible, but, well, your name is on both of their capture reports..."

"He couldn't have bloody lied about it?" Remus moaned. "Gods. I don't need any scrutiny at this point in my life."

Lily suddenly smiled. "It might help you keep a job. Who would fire a hero, after all?"

Remus shot her a look of disgust then returned his attention to the blocks.

"I do have some bad news," Lily admitted hesitantly.

"I thought you might," he said, using a small Sticking charm to make a triangular-shaped block stand on its point.

"The Death Eaters that followed Barty Crouch to your flat—" She stopped, but he refused to look up at her. "There was a fire," she said finally.

He lowered his chin to his chest, letting the words echo in his head without trying to make any kind of meaning out of them. He didn't want to know or think about the extent of the damage that could have been done_. It isn't the walls or the furniture; it's the books, the photos, the memories... _

"No one was hurt or killed," Lily said, as if that was enough to make it all right.

_It's the fact that it was our first home together..._

"Is everything gone?" he asked, concentrating on the pyramid in his fingers. The wood grain could just barely be seen through the yellow paint and he followed the lines with his thumb.

_We'd made love in every room..._

"Yes," she replied.

The simple reply drove the breath out of his body with the force of a punch to the gut. His teeth ground together in helpless rage and frustration.

_It wasn't enough that they took Sirius from me..._

"They burned Peter's flat, too."

Satisfaction streaked through him as he glanced up at her. "Good to know they don't discriminate."

"Moody thinks they did it just in case there was some kind of evidence he might have that would convict some of the others."

"Of course."

"You and Sirius can stay with us until you find another place," Lily offered. "In fact, James and I insist on it."

Remus smiled tightly as Harry again knocked over the tower of blocks with a roar. "You just want a pair of live-in nannies."

"Was there any doubt of that?" she asked, picking up on his forced lightness.

His reply was forestalled when Harry rose and trotted to the door, telling his mother it was time to go see 'Haggid'.

"Sweetheart, I think we should stay with Uncle Moony right now, like Daddy wanted—"

"No, Lily, that's all right," Remus insisted. "In fact, I think I need a little time to think."

"Remus—"

"Just a little time alone, Lily, is all I ask. Please."

She sighed, looking from Harry to Remus, then back again. "Hagrid promised to show him a unicorn foal..."

"Then, go," he urged. "It's not too often you see that. I'll be fine, Lily. Honestly."

She finally nodded and let Harry drag her out of the room.

Remus wasn't quite sure what to do once she was gone. A part of him wanted to cry like a child at the newest loss he'd suffered. Another part of him insisted that he get up and go to the Ministry immediately and kill Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch and every other Death Eater he encountered.

Instead, he gathered the blocks together and began to strategically and artfully arrange the pieces, using it as a way to distract himself from the fact that his life had tumbled into an ugly reality.

* * *

He took a shower and dressed in what he realised where the only clothes he had now.

_At least they're clean, thanks to the house-elves._

He was going to have to do some shopping soon. He wasn't the clothes-horse that Sirius was, but he needed a little more than one of everything. He would have made a list of things he needed to replace, but he didn't even own a quill to do so. Yes, he knew the house-elves would have provided him with writing utensils, but the thought that he only owned the clothes on his back was psychologically paralysing.

He made his way down the corridor and seated himself in a deep windowsill that overlooked the courtyard. Several students were lounging outside in the atypically warm weather and Remus couldn't help but notice a small cluster of boys talking and carrying on at the far end of the courtyard.

_That could have been us. We were so young, so naive. We believed we'd conquer evil and we'd make the world a better place. What happened, that we fell apart? Peter... I don't understand. Will we ever get an explanation?_

He heard the scrape of a shoe against the stone floor, but didn't turn his head.

"Remus, it is good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?"

The young man started to say, "Fine," but changed his mind before the initial consonant sound escaped. "Confused," he admitted instead. "Angry. Frightened."

Dumbledore leaned against the window frame and peered out through the glass, taking in the scene. "Much has happened," he acknowledged, "and there is more to come."

"Is there any news about Sirius?" Remus wondered if he sounded hopeful or desperate when he asked that question.

"Not as yet," Dumbledore replied. "The Death Eaters are still actively looking for him, however, which gives me hope."

"You know that's rather depressing when the best you can say is that the other side doesn't know where he is either," Remus pointed out with more than a little sarcasm tinting his words.

"I know it is frustrating and upsetting. I would like to find him every bit as much as you do," the older man said reassuringly. "I am pursuing every avenue of enquiry I possibly can to find him for you, Remus. Do not doubt that."

Remus said nothing, letting his attention go back to the group of boys.

"I have come to see if you are ready to go to the Ministry," Dumbledore said. "The Aurors need to take your statement and ask you some questions."

"Ready? No. But I do want to get it over and done with."

"There's no time like the present then, if you wouldn't mind..."

* * *

"Bastards," James muttered.

"It's the way things are," Remus said with resignation, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette before belatedly remembering he didn't have any.

"They should be handing you a bloody medal, not questioning your loyalty to the Ministry."

"For all they know, I'm a disgruntled Death Eater with a secret agenda."

"But making you swallow another dose of Veritaserum—"

Remus' long fingers dug into his friend's arm, stopping him from saying anything further. "It's nothing," he said. "Don't make it more than it is." Trying to turn his friend's attention, he muttered, "I'd kill for a bloody smoke right now."

"Remus—"

The door next to them was suddenly jerked open and they both jumped, startled.

"Damn stupid... of all the ridiculous..." There were many words being muttered by Alastor Moody, but there were only a few that were actually understood by the two young men waiting in the corridor. The Auror saw them there and stopped, his hand on the door knob. With a twisted smile, he slammed the door shut with a precise tug so that the glass set within it rattled ominously.

"They're finally convinced things happened just as you'd said, Lupin," Moody said. "Nothing for it but to believe you, considering they'd used Veritaserum on Pettigrew and Crouch and got the same story from all three of you."

"It wasn't right, what they did," James started to say loudly, indignantly.

Moody cut him off. "Be thankful they didn't put him in silver chains. They'd talked about it."

Remus didn't allow James to say anything else. He lurched to his feet and managed to slap a smile on his face. "Is there anything else that you need from me?"

"No, I think you're finished here. Go home, get some sleep..."

"I've just slept for almost two days," Remus complained.

"And you've just been questioned for seven hours. You look like hell," Moody pointed out rudely. "You've done your part. We've got the answers we need to put both of them away for a long time."

"Did—" James inhaled deeply before continuing, "—Peter say why he became a Death Eater?"

"No," Moody said, sounding regretful. "And I wish I had some idea to set your minds at ease." He glanced around quickly before adding gently, "It's a hard thing when you're betrayed by someone you trusted and were friends with. Nothing worse, really, and when it makes no sense..."

"It's too bad we can't just ask him," James commented thoughtfully.

Remus snorted humourlessly. "We wouldn't get an answer."

"How do you know? He might be so bloody proud of himself—"

"Peter has never been like that." Remus said, almost sharply. "He kept a lot of secrets from us, James. We had no idea what he was up to because he was so proud of himself that he was able to keep those secrets. He's more clever than we ever were, you realise."

"But that doesn't mean he wouldn't give us an explanation."

Remus was quiet for a moment before finally shrugging. "He has no reason to give us an explanation. If our friendship meant so little to him that he would betray us all to Voldemort, he won't care if we want to understand why he's done this."

Moody suddenly cleared his throat. "Do you want the chance to ask him anyhow?"

"How?" James asked.

Moody lifted his chin, gesturing to a point behind them. The two young men turned and then froze, seeing two Aurors escorting Peter Pettigrew through the hallway toward them.

Peter tried to stop, but one of the wizards shoved him roughly, making him stagger forward, narrowly missing Remus. Their eyes met for a moment and then Peter looked away from Remus' horrified gaze.

The Aurors kept the stocky man moving, until James took a deep breath and said, "Wait! Stop!"

Moody's order to halt echoed James' and the two Aurors did so, looking back over their shoulders to see what the problem was.

"I have a question for The Rat," James motioned toward the manacled man between the Aurors.

Peter slowly turned. "I already know what you're going to ask, James."

"Then tell me."

"You have no idea the power that the Dark Lord holds," Peter said softly. "You don't know the true extent of his grasp and his command."

"Then you should have told us!" James snarled. "You should have let us know so we can be better prepared to fight it!"

"You can't fight it!" Peter snapped back. "You're all just walking corpses. It's just a matter of time before the Dark Lord finds you, James—and Harry. And then his domination will truly begin."

"So you'd betray us, your friends, because you're afraid of standing up for what's right? I thought you were a Gryffindor!"

Peter smiled thinly. "You have no idea what you're talking about, James. When you can stand in the presence of the Dark Lord and tell him you don't know where your supposed best friends are because they don't trust you enough to tell you, you can talk to me about being brave." The smile faded into a vicious scowl. "And don't exaggerate the truth: you were never my friends."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" James demanded. "We were always friends, from the first night at Hogwarts!"

Peter laughed bitterly. "It was convenience and coincidence. There was never any actual friendship involved."

Anger surged out of the frustration and sadness that Remus had been feeling. How could Peter say they'd never been his friends? Had he not been part of their pranks? Had he not been included in the Map and the illicit trips to Hogsmeade? Hadn't they helped him occasionally—often—with essays and homework? Hadn't he been invited to their houses during the summer and other holidays? Hadn't they defended him in several battles against the Death Eaters?

His thoughts went back to the night of Sirius' memorial service, when Peter had invited himself over to Remus' flat to play chess. He'd subtly pumped Remus for information about the Secret Keeper. He'd questioned Remus' loyalty to the Order. And then, to top it all, he'd suggested that Sirius was alive, when Remus had been mourning his lover's loss.

_He knew. He knew Sirius was alive, and he thought I knew. He was deliberately baiting me to see what kind of reaction he'd get from me. _

_He thought I knew and that he could find out where Sirius was so he could lead the Death Eaters to him... again... because it had to be Peter who'd told them where to find Sirius in the first place..._

He didn't stop to consider the situation he was in. If he'd stopped to consider he was in the halls of the Ministry with three Aurors around him, he might have walked away. He might have even snapped off a Stinging Hex or something that would have been annoying and irritating but certainly never life-threatening. Unfortunately, the only thing he was truly aware of was that the bastard who'd taken Sirius away from him was i_right there.../i_

He felt the snarl rise from deep in his chest and he leaped forward, hands outstretched, ready to wrap his fingers around Peter's neck and snap it or twist it or...

Strong, Quidditch-conditioned arms grabbed him around the chest; Remus' impetus swung them around until they collided with the wall.

"No, Remus!" James said fiercely in his ear.

"I'm going to kill him!" Remus shouted, trying to twist in James' grip to get to Pettigrew.

"Get him out of here!" Moody ordered the Aurors, jabbing a finger toward their prisoner. He turned and shoved at Remus, hard, until he and James had the furious young man pinned against the wall.

Remus turned his head so he could watch Peter being pushed down the corridor. He was surprised to see that Peter was looking back at him.

"We would have died with you, Peter!" he yelled. "We would have died _for _you! Lying, traitorous _rat_!"

Peter's retort was clearly heard: "If it weren't for Sirius, you'd be where I am, _Moony."_

* * *

"What did he mean, you were never his friends?" Lily asked, handing Harry another small chocolate biscuit.

James made a disgusted sound deep in his throat. "Who knows? He's talking nonsense. Gods, to say that—"

"If I might make a comment?" Dumbledore gently interrupted. "It could be that Pettigrew might have become somewhat disillusioned or resentful of what had been happening around him. The fact that he referred to you as his 'supposed best friends' and then mentioning his lack of knowing where you were is very telling."

"But Remus didn't know where we were either!" James protested. "If you ask me, it was worse for Remus because it was his partner who was the Secret Keeper. "

"Yes, but Remus still had Sirius," the Headmaster pointed out.

"Pettigrew's been giving information to Voldemort for over a year," Moody suddenly growled. "It wasn't when Black became the Secret Keeper that Pettigrew suddenly turned on you—and us."

"True." Dumbledore conceded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps this is part of it then: Pettigrew had been part of a closely knit group of four, which could be easily paired off. When Lily was drawn into the group, it was no longer possible to split into two pairs. It was a pair and an awkward trio—especially when Sirius and Remus became involved. Now there were two pairs—and one lone individual."

"We included him whenever we did anything," James said, shaking his head. "He shouldn't have felt left out of anything. Trips to the pubs, dinners at our houses..."

"But we had our little inside jokes, James," Lily suddenly said, "and Remus and Sirius had theirs. The four of us made plenty of comments to one another about being in a committed relationship. Peter couldn't contribute to that. He didn't have what the four of us did."

Remus had been hunched over in his chair, with his face buried in his hands. He looked up at Lily's words and stared at her. "He would get quiet when we made jokes to compare which couple had the worst or best of anything. Sirius would get annoyed about it and say that Peter was pouting."

"But we never excluded him," James insisted. "He was still our friend, and we always treated him as such."

Lily and Remus exchanged glances and then looked at James.

"I can't believe Peter would hand us over to Voldemort because he was jealous," the dark-haired man continued. "It's so—so petty."

"People have turned on their friends for less," Moody said. "Jealousy will turn some people inside out and make their sanity disappear."

"But, Peter—"

Remus cut James off abruptly. "The simple truth is that, unless Peter chooses to tell us specifically what it was that made him say 'yes' when the Death Eaters talked to him, we're never going to know. There have been several times when we couldn't follow Peter's logic for doing certain things—look how we reacted when he broke up with that Hufflepuff because she wanted to use us as her subjects for palm reading for her Divination project in sixth year."

"That was just stupid," James claimed. "She just needed us for the class. It's not like she wanted dates with us. He blew it completely out of proportion."

"And we made more than our share of comments about it," Remus said, regret starting to seep into his words. "As we did whenever he did other things that made no sense to us."

James sighed. He was scowling, but it seemed to be more in thought than in anger. "You didn't make nearly as many comments as Sirius and I did," he admitted finally, though it obviously pained him to admit as much.

"If we are to be honest about it," Remus contradicted gently, "it was mainly Sirius who teased Peter—somewhat cruelly, at times."

They were all quiet for a long moment.

"No wonder he led the Death Eaters to Sirius," James said sadly.

Moody suddenly cleared his throat. "Now that you've got that out of the way, I want to know what you think about the last thing that Pettigrew said to you, Lupin."

Remus rubbed one hand over his face. "I—don't know."

"How do you interpret his comment?" Dumbledore asked. "It is a rather ambiguous statement to make."

"It sounds as if he's saying that Black was the only thing keeping you from being a Death Eater," Moody commented, his eyes fixed piercingly on Remus.

The younger man shook his head. "Peter knows I'm loyal to the Order. He knows I wouldn't turn my back on all of you because Sirius is gone."

"Did he ever try to recruit you for Voldemort?"

"Nooo," Remus dragged the word out just a bit longer than necessary, making Moody turn more fully toward him. "He asked me after the memorial service if I was tired of fighting and if I would continue to fight. He never suggested I change sides."

"He didn't know what you were doing with the werewolf packs, did he?"

"Not that I know. But he knew a lot of things that I didn't. He knew Sirius was alive," he added after a moment's thought.

"Could he have meant that Sirius was somehow keeping the Death Eaters from coming after Remus?" James asked.

Remus shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I'm not that important, in the grand scheme of things. Sirius is obviously the best way to get to you, James. I'm—"

"You are the way to get to Black," Moody pointed out. "And now, with Black missing, you are next likely to be the Potters' Secret Keeper."

"I told Peter I wasn't."

Moody made a dismissive gesture, obviously disgusted with Remus' comment. "He knows you lie, though. You lied about being a werewolf when you were younger, you've kept the secret that they're Animagi, and I'll bet my good eye that you've lied about a bit more than that."

Remus said nothing, not willing to confirm or deny the Auror's words. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he would only incriminate himself further than he already had.

Lily suddenly surprised them all by saying, "You know, Peter could mean something more fundamental. He made that comment after he'd already said you'd never been his friends. Could he have been insinuating you'd have had no friends, Remus, if it hadn't been for Sirius?"

"Which means that Peter was never my friend, either?" Remus asked, his eyes widening.

"Well, that should be bloody obvious," muttered James.

"He's saying that you wouldn't have been my friend, either, you realise," Remus said, turning his gaze on James.

"That's rubbish," James said scornfully. "We're friends. We always have been. The Rat has a distorted idea of friendship if he couldn't see that. Don't start questioning that just because _he_ fucked up."

"James," Lily murmured warningly, motioning to Harry, who was nestled in his mother's arms, but was watching the adults closely. "Language."

"Sorry." James didn't look repentant in the least. "But it's bloody ridiculous. Just because The Rat felt left out and lonely, he thinks Remus should feel that way, too? I'm not going to let that happen."

Remus sighed. "No one appreciates your friendship more than I, James. You and Sirius—and Peter—" the admission was made with great difficulty, "have done more for me than I can ever say. You became Animagi for me. You've kept me from being—" He stopped with a sharp inhalation. "Oh, gods. That's it."

"What's it?" Moody snapped.

Remus wasn't quite sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry at the sudden realisation. "If Sirius hadn't asked me to move in with him, I'd have no place of my own, or I'd be fighting to keep it. I know how difficult it is for others like me. If I hadn't had Sirius, there's a greater chance that I'd be living with one of the werewolf packs..."

"No," James said. "We wouldn't let you be there. Gods, Remus, I saw it and... You couldn't stay there."

"If I didn't have a job or a place to stay—" Remus broke off and swallowed hard. "When you've got nothing, you start believing that anything could make your life better. I've seen it happening in the packs. Who's to say that I wouldn't start believing Greyback and the others who claim that maybe Voldemort's got a plan of equality for the werewolves?"

"You wouldn't," Lily said firmly. "You know better. You know their promises are empty and evil."

"But if I were desperate?" Remus shrugged. "Maybe Peter's right. Maybe I would have done as he has."

"Remus." Dumbledore rose and went to sit in the chair next to Remus'. "There is more to you than what Pettigrew has ascribed to you. You have known discrimination and pain from those who are unsympathetic to your plight, and _never_ have you felt that such a life was all that was left to you. You find the thought of becoming one of Voldemort's minions abhorrent. Perhaps, without friends, you would have found it more difficult to make your way in the world, but you are too good a man to submit to Voldemort's cruel intentions."

"Peter's underestimated you," James said with a mirthless grin. "He always has done. He was always surprised at the grades you got and your strength and your determination. Don't you _dare_ let him make you think you're something that you aren't."

"I—I think I'm angry that he thinks so little of me," Remus finally admitted after a moment's thought. "How could he, after all this time?"

"He thinks so little of you and of James and of Sirius because he thinks so little of himself," Dumbledore said. "When one's character is so weak, it's easy to find the faults in others—even when goodness outshines all else."

Remus rubbed at his temple with his fingertips. "I suppose so. No. You're right. I know you are. It's just that..." His voice tapered off and he smiled half-heartedly. "I'm not thinking right. Everything that I thought was right last week has turned out to be so very wrong: Sirius isn't dead; Peter is a Death Eater... I think I'm going to question everything for a while."

James muttered an agreement and Remus got up and went over to his friend. "You, Lily, and Harry have been the only things holding me together in the past couple of days," he said. "Thank you for all you've done."

"It's what friends do, Moony," James said with a smile, throwing his arms around Remus in a snug embrace.

* * *

The next morning, Remus was awakened by a nearly frantic shaking.

"Sir must wake up!" a squeaky voice said.

Remus opened his eyes to blearily regard a house-elf in a Hogwarts tea towel pinned like a toga over his shoulder.

"The Headmaster says you must be waking up _now_!" the house-elf announced urgently.

"What's wrong?" Remus asked, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, and sitting up.

"He is wanting me to give you this and be saying fifteen minutes."

"What—?"

The last vestiges of sleep fled instantly as Remus took a brown leather collar from the house-elf's thin fingers. His heart was thumping painfully in his chest as he looked at the ragged piece of parchment that accompanied the collar. In spidery, cramped writing was a simple phrase: "Tell the Wolf to fetch." Under that, written in familiar script, was: "Remus, the collar is the Key. Be cautious." A phoenix had been stamped on the parchment in blue ink, and, as Remus watched, it flew from the paper and disappeared in a small explosion of blue sparks. The initials "APWBD" glowed faintly for about three seconds before fading away.

"'Fetch'," he whispered, fingering the brown leather.

It could only mean one thing. He dressed quickly and then stood in front of the clock on the bedside table, watching it tick off the minutes while he turned the loop of leather in his fingers. It was a full minute before he expected it when he felt the odd, almost nauseating feeling of being hooked deep in his gut and _pulled..._

The Portkey deposited him in a copse of trees near a rickety shack in the middle of nowhere. Tucking the still-glowing collar in his pocket, he glanced around, assessing the situation.

He could see several farms on the gentle ridges surrounding him, but he doubted anyone would be looking in the direction of the shack. After all, it looked as if no one had given it any consideration recently. All the same, he Disillusioned himself before he stepped out of the shadow of the trees.

All was quiet. A few birds chirped above him, and somewhere nearby, he could hear the sound of a tractor.

_'Be cautious.'_

It was as if Dumbledore had been standing next to him whispering the words in his ear. He waved his wand in several intricate designs, looking for the telltale signs of wards. A simple Muggle-repellant charm existed, but there was nothing alarming that Remus could see. Taking a deep breath, he moved closer to the building. There was no tingle of magic that accompanied wards or traps or warning charms, but he was perspiring lightly from tension by the time he reached the door.

The door swung open at his touch—he hadn't even turned the latch. He threw himself into a defensive crouch, bringing his wand up in readiness.

There was nothing.

"_Homenum revelio,_" he barely murmured.

According to the spell, there was one person in the building. Another spell revealed a lack of wards or spells inside. It seemed safe, and while Remus hated to risk his safety—and Sirius'—on the simple appearance of safety, he didn't think he could waste any more time than he already had.

"Sirius?" he called softly as he crossed over the threshold.

He thought it might be a cabin for shepherds who needed to be close to their flocks during lambing season. There was a table and two chairs near a window and a mouse-gnawed armchair directly across from it. But in the corner was a small bedstead—and someone was in it.

Remus carefully placed one foot in front of the other and approached the bed. His heart was in his throat, making it impossible for him to swallow or to take a breath.

_Is it—?_

It was.

He ended the Disillusionment charm and threw himself on his knees beside the bed, unable to hold himself back any longer. "Sirius, wake up," he said, brushing the unkempt, matted hair out of his partner's face. He choked down a sob at the sight of a large barely healed scar that ran across Sirius' forehead. "Sirius? Can you hear me? Oh, gods, Sirius—" He leaned over and gently pressed his lips to the other man's temple, disregarding the dirt and rank odour that clung to the dark-haired man.

"Moony?" It was barely more than a breath of air.

"Yes, it's m—"

Sirius' hand moved, and Remus assumed Sirius was going to reach for him. He was shocked when Sirius shoved at him instead. "Go 'way," the injured man insisted weakly. "You're not him."

"Yes, it—"

"He's dead," moaned Sirius, trying to writhe away from Remus. He groaned loudly and stopped moving, panting shallowly in pain.

"No, I'm not. I'm right here." Remus grabbed Sirius' hand, feeling his heart sink at how cold the fingers were.

"No. Saw it. _Saw_ it," Sirius repeated, his eyes clenched shut tightly.

"Sirius. Padfoot"

"Go 'way. He's _dead_."

Remus pressed his forehead to their clasped hands. He didn't know what had happened to Sirius, but obviously they'd used some horrible deception to try to break him.

_How do I convince him I'm me?_

Ever so softly, he said, "That night, Sirius, when we fought about my loyalty to you and the Order, do you remember? We said so many hurtful things to one another, things that we'd been thinking for months."

Sirius' eyes opened and he focussed on Remus' lips, as if what happened next would be determined by Remus' subsequent words. He seemed to be holding his breath.

Remus smiled. "When it was over, I was waiting for you to say I was an arse or that you were sorry. I thought you might even suggest we go into the bedroom so you could fuck my brains out. Instead, you asked me if I was hungry. We walked down to that pub on the corner and had ham sandwiches. After that, we went to the park and looked at the stars."

He leaned over and whispered, "It was the first time you said you loved me."

Sirius' fingers gripped Remus' very tightly. "How—?

"It's me. I don't know what they've done to make you think otherwise, but it's me. And I'm going to take you home—" Remus stopped abruptly, remembering that their flat was a pile of burnt timbers and ash. "I have to get you out of here, get you somewhere safe..."

"Moony—" Sirius pulled his shaky hand away to touch Remus' cheek. "It _is_ you."

Remus' hands moved of their volition, dancing softly across Sirius' shoulders and head, his thumb stroking the chin and jaw that were now fully bearded, his fingers tracing the scar across the forehead. He wanted to lie down, stretch himself full length beside the Animagus and just feel the warmth, the solidity that had been missing for over two weeks.

"I've missed you so bloody much," he whispered fiercely, his eyes intent on the other man's grey eyes. "I didn't know where you were. I thought you were dead, too."

"Dead wouldn't... feel... this bad."

Tears sprang to Remus' eyes, but he blinked them away: he couldn't turn into a bawling mess now. "Can't feel so bad, Padfoot, if you're making terrible jokes like that."

"Really you," Sirius slurred. "No symp'thy." His eyes slipped closed and he sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

_Do I dare move him? What injuries has he suffered?_

As good as Remus had become with simple healing spells—for his own benefit, mainly—he wasn't very good at diagnostic charms. He had never regretted that as much as he did now. "I have to get you out of here," he told Sirius again. "Where are you hurt?"

Sirius huffed in what Remus realised was an attempt at sarcastic laughter. "All hurts."

"Sirius—"

"Leg's broke... an' ribs... an'—" He broke off, coughing, though it was little more than a groaning wheeze.

Remus winced. There'd be no way of getting Sirius out of here with a minimal amount of pain. "Fuck, Padfoot, it's going to hurt, but I don't know what else to do." He began to wrap the thin blanket more securely around Sirius's sides. "I don't know how much time we have."

_I could make a stretcher and—_

There was a noise outside the building and Remus looked quickly toward the open door.

_What was that?_

"We've got to get out of here," he breathed in Sirius' ear.

The Animagus gripped Remus' sleeve. "Don' let 'em... get us." The plea was fervent and almost shocking. Sirius sounded terrified.

"No," Remus said. "I won't."

"_Kill_ me... if y' can't... get us—"

"Shut up, Sirius," Remus whispered sharply. He started to ease one arm under Sirius' back but stopped when the man whimpered loudly.

Remus shot another glance at the door. Someone or something _was_ out there. His brain sorted through possibilities and discarded them just as quickly until he shook his head, knowing there was only one thing to do. "Forgive me, Padfoot," he muttered, raising his wand. "_Stupefy_."

* * *

Remus Apparated to the front gates at Hogwarts. The stone boars looked down at him and his burden and immediately the barred gates popped open. He muttered his thanks to them as he walked past them, relieved that he didn't have to ask for admittance.

_Dumbledore's doing?_

Further proof that Dumbledore was expecting him came in the form of Hagrid, who seemingly came from nowhere when Remus was still halfway to the castle.

"There y' are, Lupin. Headmaster said tha'—Bloody hell! Is tha' Sirius Black?"

"It is," Remus said gravely.

"I'll carry 'im, if—"

"No. I've got him." Remus adjusted his grip just a tad so that Sirius' head lay more firmly against his chest and nodded curtly. "If you'd walk with me, though, and make sure no one gets in my way..."

They encountered few students, as most of the children were in classes, and what few they did meet stepped aside hurriedly upon seeing Hagrid's purposeful strides. Madame Pomfrey was waiting for them at the top of the staircase that would take them into the hospital wing.

She led them into a small room at the back of one of the large wardrooms, and as soon as Remus laid Sirius on the bed, she started a series of diagnostic charms. She didn't try to send Remus out of the room, probably knowing he'd never go. She'd dealt with Sirius' obstinacy often enough when the boys were in their seventh year and their relationship had shifted into something other than just friendship. They'd been inseparable, and there'd been many times that she'd come in to check on Remus after the full moons to find Sirius snuggled beside him on the bed or curled on a chair nearby.

"Will he be all right?" Remus asked quietly after several minutes of tense silence.

"He's had a few healing potions already," she said, sounding almost confused. "There is evidence of wounds and internal injuries that have healed or are healing. If it weren't for those potions, he might be dead now."

Remus closed his eyes, feeling his chest constrict tightly at the confirmation of things he'd thought, felt, and suspected. He'd known the Death Eaters wouldn't have been gentle with Sirius, which had been why it had been easy to believe that Sirius was dead. Now that he had fetched Sirius back to safety, though, Pomfrey's words made Remus realise all over again what he could have lost.

When the matron bustled off to get potions that Sirius would need, Remus slid the chair over to the side of the bed and took Sirius' slack hand in his. Now that they were in a safe place, he couldn't stop staring at Sirius, noticing the hurts and the feverish pink spots on the thin, pale cheeks.

He didn't say anything. He knew Sirius couldn't hear him and what was needed to be said would wait until Sirius was awake and feeling marginally better. So, he just sat and let his eyes drink Sirius in, letting the other man's presence pour over and through him until he was nearly breathless with relief and concern—and love.

* * *

Warmth.

Softness.

_Safety_.

Sirius slowly forced one eye open and then the other. The ceiling looked familiar; the scent of the room was familiar; maybe even more importantly, the man beside Sirius' bed was very familiar.

Remus had fallen asleep in the chair next to the bed, but his face was buried in his folded arms on the edge of Sirius' bed. The Animagus couldn't help but stare, thinking about the many times in their lives when their positions had been reversed. At another time, then or yet to come, Sirius might have considered startling Remus into wakefulness with a sharp push or a loud noise. Now, however…

He'd thought he would never see Remus again. He'd thought death would separate them—no, ihad/i separated them. He'd dreamed of being with Remus; he'd longed to feel his lover's touch, to hear his voice, to belong to the blue-eyed man all over again. Tears filled his eyes as he reached out to gently stroke the sandy-brown hair.

For a moment, Remus seemed to lean into the touch, muttering something softly. And then Sirius heard the sharp intake of breath and saw the man's muscles tense. He could only watch in wide-eyed wonder as Remus brought his head up and jerked back so violently that the chair he'd been precariously perched on tipped under the sudden movement.

"Ouch! Fuck!" Remus yelled as his backside hit the floor—and the chair landed on his shoulder. Awareness flooded into the young man's eyes a moment later. Sirius could tell that he was thinking of what he wanted to say, wondering what he ishould/i say. He finally settled for "You scared the bloody shit out of me, Sirius!"

Before Sirius could make the comment that he'd been very deliberately trying not to do that very thing, Remus scrambled to his knees and grabbed Sirius' hand. "I was so scared," he whispered.

"I was, too," Sirius admitted, with a short bark of laughter. His ribs chose that moment to remind him that they weren't completely healed and he winced. But then Remus' fingers were stroking his hand, making him forget about the ache. "I thought you were dead."

Remus smiled lopsidedly, moving to perch himself on the edge of the bed. "I thought you were, too."

"They killed you," Sirius said a little more insistently, his fingers wrapping around Remus' wrist and squeezing tightly, as if it would help to make the man's presence even more real. "Right in front of me."

"It wasn't me." Remus combed his fingers through Sirius' raven locks, letting his thumb caress Sirius' cheek.

"It was so real. How did they do that?"

"Magic," Remus replied simply.

"It looked like you. It sounded like you."

A shudder suddenly rocked Remus' body at the same time as realization exploded in his eyes. "Shit!" He looked away from Sirius' enquiring eyes, running his hand over his hair in obvious frustration. "Peter."

From somewhere deep inside Sirius, a memory emerged. No, not a memory; it was more like a long-forgotten nightmare.

_"Please tell them, Sirius! Don't let Remus die!"_

_"I—can't."_

_"Don't you hear him screaming?"_

_"Moony—understands."_

_"I thought you loved him."_

It was so real, yet Sirius couldn't remember anything about Peter being there before that—or after that last accusatory sentence. "Remus, where's Peter?"

The blue eyes closed, and pain spread itself across the other man's face. "Oh, gods, Sirius."

"Was he there? With me?"

Remus' chuckle was as bitter as Sirius had ever heard. "He might have been. Oh, fuck, he probably was…" He pulled his hands away from Sirius, and let them dangle between his knees, doubling over as if he were in pain.

"Is Peter all right?"

Remus' high-pitched laugh sent chills down Sirius' spine, making him dread the answer. "Peter is in Azkaban." Before Sirius could deny the possibility of such a statement, Remus raised his head and looked him straight in the eyes. "He's a Death Eater."

"No. He was—"

"He's a bloody traitor," Remus said, the hint of a snarl accompanying the words. "He knew you were alive and didn't tell me. He helped arrange for Death Eaters to come to our flat after the full moon to attack me. When that didn't happen, they burned it to the ground."

Sirius sucked in a sharp breath. "Our flat—burned—?"

Remus looked down at his fingers, which were tightly interlaced. "I had hoped to tell you in a much different way, but yes. Everything's gone."

Sirius covered his face with his hands. _Our photos, our books, our clothes…_

Remus went on, talking quickly as if rushing through it all would help him get through it—or maybe help Sirius through it. "He told Voldemort everything about us: the fact that you and James are Animagi, the fact that we're lovers, the fact that I'm a werewolf…"

"Bloody hell!" Sirius whispered. "Is there anything he didn't tell?"

"Probably not." Remus reached for Sirius again, pulling his hands down from his face and holding them tightly. "We can assume that Voldemort knows everything that we've done or said." He swallowed hard. "Considering Peter is the sneaky rat that he is, I would assume he took one of my hairs and they used it in Polyjuice Potion. The poor son of a bitch that you thought was me probably had no idea he was playing a part in some horrible charade."

"To make me think that you were being tortured and killed—"

"But you didn't break. You didn't tell where James and Lily and Harry were."

Sirius scoffed. "Of course, I didn't." Sudden realization struck him that he'd just admitted that he'd deliberately let Remus die. "Moony, I didn't want to keep my silence. I wanted to tell them." He fisted Remus' sleeve. "I couldn't bear it. It was awful. I heard you screaming in my nightmares after that night, and there was nothing I could do."

"No," Remus contradicted, his eyes blazing. "It wasn't _nothing_. It was _everything_. You did what you had to do."

"But, Moony—"

"You were _right_, Padfoot. You had to keep them safe. I am nothing, the Order is nothing; our purpose is nothing without Harry."

"But I lost you," Sirius whispered. "And then I wanted to die. I tried to, actually, but…" He stopped abruptly and his tone because lighter, almost laughing. "There was a Death Eater who wouldn't let me die. He kept sneaking Healing potions in to me. He was the one who finally managed to sneak me out of the place."

"I've had some time to think," Remus said quietly. "I think Dumbledore has a spy in the Death Eaters. The man who helped you was more than likely that man."

Sirius didn't say anything for a moment. "Well, isn't this a bloody fine mess."

Their eyes met and Remus offered a tentative half-smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I've told you the worst of it all."

Sirius blinked. Remus had, within five minutes of their waking up, revealed that their lives were open books to the Death Eaters, they had no home, and one of their best friends was a traitor. Nearly hysterical laughter bubbled up from within him. "Trust you, Moony, to be able to understate the fact that our lives are shit."

Remus chuckled. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sirius' forehead. "But you're alive, Sirius, and I have you back."

Sirius let his hand slide up Remus' arm and over the broad shoulder to tickle the soft skin on the side of Remus' neck. "Then we have everything we need."

* * *

"It bloody hurts!"

"Well, of course, it bloody hurts. Your hip joint is fucked up and your femur was shattered in two places."

"Is there an ounce of compassion inside you at all?" Sirius grumbled.

"Sirius, I have had bones broken and joints pulled apart so often that—"

"Yeah, yeah. Werewolf. I get it." Sirius took in a deep breath and took another step forward.

"We're almost there," Remus reassured him.

"Is it just me, or did Dumbledore pick the most inconvenient spot for us to meet? Bloody effing stairs and—"

"Would you shut it, Padfoot?" Remus huffed, though he smiled affectionately. "You broke your ankle in that stunt off the Astronomy Tower and had to hobble around for a week, and you did it with far less complaint."

"I didn't hurt as badly as I do now," Sirius complained, hopping down another few stairs.

"That's a sign you're getting old," Remus sighed, looking up at him from the landing right below him. He grinned mischievously. "It's just a matter of time before you start whining when I suggest we spice things up with those silk cords—"

"Maybe the gods strike you with lightning for suggesting such a thing." Sirius placed a hand on his partner's shoulder to help himself down to the landing. "And, since you've mentioned it, add that to the list of things we need to replace." He leaned over to snatch a kiss from Remus.

They finished their slow progression down the main stairway and turned toward the Staff Room doors. Just as they neared the door, James suddenly emerged from the room. "Hey! There you two are!"

"Give us a minute," Sirius snapped. "Some of us are injured, you know."

James and Remus exchanged smiles.

"Don't patronise me," groused Sirius.

"What are you going to do? Kick me in the arse?" James asked. "Club me over the head with your cane?"

"Fucker," Sirius mumbled as he pushed his way past the other man and into the Staff Room.

James put a hand on Remus' arm, preventing him from following his lover. "How is he?" he enquired quietly.

Remus took a deep breath. "He has nightmares—terrible ones—but that's to be expected, I'm told. Certainly understandable, considering what they did to him."

"You know you're still welcome to come and stay with us."

"I know. We appreciate the offer, truly," Remus said with a smile.

"You can't stay here at Hogwarts indefinitely."

"No, we can't," Remus agreed. "We've got a plan, though."

"A plan?"

Remus hesitated and then led James by the arm into the Great Hall, where they sat down across from each other at the Gryffindor table.

"Albus wanted us to meet you here to tell you what we'd decided. Sirius and I just wanted to go to yours, but considering the state of Sirius' leg... We wanted to tell you in person, just you and us, but—"

James smiled and reached across the table to touch Remus' arm. "Moony, you're rambling. Just tell me."

Remus smiled back and ran a hand over his head. "Sorry. I think I'm a little nervous—but I'm excited, too. It's a bit overwhelming, though—"

James did laugh then. "Gods, Remus! Would you just tell me?"

"Sirius needs to find a place to hide. He can't stay in England. The Death Eaters found him within a matter of weeks. I have to hide, too. They know about our relationship. They know they can use me to get to Sirius. Not to mention I'm also a Secret Keeper. It's not safe for me here, either."

The black-haired man sighed, and if sighs had a tone, Remus supposed this one hinted at resignation. "Where will you two go?"

"We have nothing here but you and Lily. Our flat is ashes, as well as everything we owned. We've decided it's a good time to travel. We're going to buy one of those magical tents and travel until we can come back without endangering Harry—or until it's time for us to make a definitive move against Voldemort."

James cupped his chin in his hand and tapped the table with his other hand. "Let's see... France and Greece for you. Italy and Germany for Sirius."

"And maybe Egypt and Norway, just for fun," Remus said with a smile.

"I think I envy you." James shrugged at Remus' disbelieving stare. "I'm starting to feel a little claustrophobic at home. To think of being free to go where you want, when you want..."

"It won't be all fun. Albus wants us to investigate some rumours and gather information, so really, our path will be somewhat directed by that. We'll have to rely on a lot of spells. We'll need to disguise ourselves often, and we'll have to mask the presence of our tent every night—we won't be able to stay in the same place two nights in a row. And, let's not forget, I'll be alone with Sirius."

James chuckled. "It could be that you'll have it more difficult than I do."

"That's what I'm beginning to wonder. Or maybe Sirius will. It's been a fortnight since my last cigarette and I'm going to try to break the habit altogether."

"Thank all the gods I won't be there for that, then."

The two men grinned at each other. Then James reached over and took Remus' hand in his. "You're doing this for my son, Moony, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate that."

"As Lily pointed out to me a few weeks ago, we're family. There's nothing we wouldn't do for you, Lily, or Harry."

The fingers gripping Remus' tightened a little. "We'll expect postcards." The wet glistening in James' eyes said more.

Remus was able to interpret it. "We'll miss you, too."

* * *

"Excuse me."

The man looked up from the fish he was gutting. "Yes?" he demanded in heavily accented English.

"I wondered if you had some fish that you'd care to part with for a few _lei."_

The man's eyebrows rose as he cast a doubtful look over the man in front of him. Tall and thin, dressed in khaki trousers with a long, black leather coat that came to his knees and sturdy walking boots... He looked out of place in this small, Romanian seaside town, though not particularly dangerous, even if a long, recently healed scar lined his left cheek. The black dog at his side, however, was another story.

"He doesn't bite," the stranger said, seeing the man's eyes flick to the beast. "He's actually very friendly."

As if he knew what his master was saying, the dog wagged his tail and tilted his head in a beseeching way.

Despite himself, the fisherman smiled. He did have a soft spot for dogs. "I get you fish."

The tall man touched the brim of his fedora in thanks. "Padfoot and I will wait right here for you."

The fisherman's wife saw him wrapping the fish in newspaper and peered out the window at the Englishman. "He's too skinny, Mihai. Give him some bread, too."

"You'd have us giving all our food away," the man grumbled. Still, he picked up the half a loaf that was still on the table.

The young man had removed his hat, letting the stiff wind ruffle his sandy-brown hair as he knelt with his arm around his dog. They were both looking out over the sea, and the fisherman thought he heard the stranger talking to the dog. It seemed a strange thing to do, the fisherman thought, talking to an animal. Still, the young man was alone in a strange country. The dog was obviously a companion more than a pet.

They bargained quickly for the fish and then the young man hoisted a worn rucksack over his shoulders.

"You are a long way from home," the fisherman said.

The young man smiled. "Home is where the heart is," he replied in near-fluent Romanian. He put one hand on his heart and the other on the dog's head. "And I've got mine with me."

The dog nosed at his master's leg and then looked at the fisherman with a gleam in his eye that spoke as eloquently as any human words could: _He's mine and I'm his. What more could we want?_

* * *

The Romanian fisherman thought about the strange pair that night when the wind brought in a particularly violent thunderstorm. Had they found shelter? He could almost envision them, the young man's arms around the dog, huddling beneath a pine tree's boughs in scant protection from the driving rain...

Not far away, a small, nondescript blue tent stood firm against the battering wind. Inside, oblivious to the storm, two young men lay entwined together, breathing rapidly and sweating lightly from their love-making.

Grey eyes glittered in the scant light. "All right, then, Moony?"

"Perfect," was the soft reply. It was times like this when Remus was most conscious of what he'd almost lost forever. Remembering the bitter and draining darkness of grief, he combed his fingers through black, silky hair. "Thankful."

Sirius didn't have to ask what he meant: they'd had that conversation when the answer had first been given months before. Instead of saying anything in return, he pressed his lips gently to his lover's. He could feel Remus' smile beneath the kiss.

Love was a joyous, exhilarating thing.


End file.
